


If I Hate My Bodyguard and My Bodyguard Hates Me, Then Who's Doing the Bodyguarding?

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ("aesthetic uwu"), ("what time period is this?"), (what is the mystery? i honestly don't know!), Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/F, Gen, I don't know, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, but that's a tag now, i don't know what's the opposite of running from the law?, like running from the law but the law is actually a crime group, now with mystery solving lesbians, running from the... not... law?, supernatural... power ability... things???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 51,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider never expected to get the job. He'd never thought that he—of all people—would ever serve a family rich enough to live in Skaia's opulent Ward 1, which served as the central district of the nation. And, beyond that, he never thought that the family he'd be working for would be the Vantases—the lineage behind Skaia's infamous crime syndicate, the Cult of Cancer. And, yet, here he is... The bodyguard to Karkat Vantas, the son of the head of the Cult of Cancer, living in his own luxury apartment on the second floor of a mansion in Ward 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> A steampunk role inversion of [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3993196/chapters/8966713).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 412 Derse Drive  
> East Ward 12  
> Ashfield, Skaia
> 
> Dave Strider
> 
> Freelance musician  
> Artist  
> Clockmaker

According to Skaian lore—the ever-reliable word on the street—Karkat Vantas was the oddball of the family. He hated his wealth and despised the means by which it was obtained even more. He'd even gone so far as to reject his family trade and begin carving a niche for himself as a romance novelist. Not that he was bad at this; no, he had made a fair amount of money from his books. They received largely positive reviews. He had decent sales. But he was nowhere near famous—nothing worth anything more than small blurbs on Skaian news broadcasts.

And, apparently, he'd never been that much of a public guy. The media knew just about as much as Dave Strider did before he was hired to be the bastard's bodyguard. Aside from his job as an author, his life was kept locked securely away from the public eye. And, perhaps that's why anyone seeing him anywhere outside of his house was such a big deal. Skaian newspapers raved whenever new material came in. It didn't matter what it was he was doing—everything from buying groceries to taking a walk down his own block was front-page-worthy gossip. And, like all other gossip, it ranged from benign to toxic. On one end were honest speculations about his interests and, at the far opposite side of the scale, there were allegations that he was faking his rebellious nature.

As if to add to this, he wasn't the type of guy who really fit in with the general population. The few images of him that were available made that much apparent. Sure, for the most part, he was a standard guy. A bit shorter than the average, medium brown skin, messy black hair, and silver eyes. And, then, it came down to what set him apart. A pair of faded brass machines—small but powerful contraptions held to the outer thigh and calf of each leg with faded leather straps. Each was part of a pair comprised of both the upper and lower portions and bound together with a bendable brass joint. The innermost mechanics of it, however, were hidden beneath a shell of tarnished silver.

Some people said it was a family argument gone wrong. A schoolyard fight that took some sort of morbid twist beyond the realms of standard superficial injury. The official story was pretty well known, though, and it was what Dave ascribed to. After all, it had been all over the news. Ten years back, a smaller up-and-coming crime group had tried to go against the Cult of Cancer. They'd originally planned on kidnapping the loudmouthed eldest brother of the family, Kankri; but, having failed this, they settled for Karkat. They slapped a massive ransom on his head and tried to use him to their advantage. Instead, they were attacked by members of the Cult of Cancer. In the ensuing chaos, Karkat ended up being hit by a stray bullet.

And, when the dark wooden double doors to the home opened for the first time, Dave found himself staring at a man who looked remarkably like he did in all the pictures. A tattered grey suit jacket and wrinkled, collared shirt covered his upper body and faded black slacks covered the rest. Dry, calloused palms gripped the designated portions of custom brass crutches. His thick, black brows were knit together in a look of perpetual annoyance. And, when he spoke, his voice was crisp and commanding. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Dave Strider," had been the nervous answer. "Your father hired me to be your bodyguard. You... didn't... know about this?"

"Of fucking course I knew about this," Karkat spat. He shifted his weight from one crutch to the other and heaved a short, irritable sigh. "How much did the bastard pay you?"

"Wages for a year."

"So I guess I have to put up with you until then?" Another sigh. He ran his fingers through his thick tangle of hair, lifting the crutch he wasn't bearing weight on up in the process. "Fine. Whatever. Just get in here before those fucking media twits get back."

Dave, not exactly in the position to do otherwise, complied. He shuffled himself and all three bags of his worldly possessions into a massive, open entertaining area. The polished oak wood beneath his feet reflected the opulence above and around him. A golden chandelier whose lights pulsated slightly, the surefire sign of electricity—something even the best of factories didn't have back in Ward 12. And, then, there was the furniture. Magnificent sold wood fashioned in a baroque style with silver accents. Wall after wall of fully stocked bookshelves.

Most of it, however, was untouched. A fine film of dust had settled on the marble countertops. The shining gold leaf atop the writing desk was masked in a similar manner.

In fact, only the armchair in front of the roaring fireplace to the east seems to have seen any regular use. If, of course, the indentation in the eat cushion was anything to go by.

And Karkat, having spent the past few minutes in silence, finally spoke up. He fumbled with a keyring he pulled from his pocket for a few moments before handing over a rusted iron key. "Your room is upstairs." Here, he nodded towards a staircase with solid dark wood pillars on either side. "Entire second floor is yours. I'm hoping you're bright enough to know the difference between a kitchen and a bathroom. If not, then... Really... That's not my fucking problem."

Dave nodded. He glanced down at the key in his hands and then back towards Karkat.

By now, the machine was working. The inner gears groaned to life, rigidly propelling his left leg forward. Then, the right leg followed suit. It was a cumbersome-looking process. A tedious balancing act. Still, it seemed that he'd grown accustomed to it. And, after a few seconds, Dave had grown bored of watching.

So, seeing little else to do, he ascended the stairwell. He unlocked the plain oak door at the top and pushed it open to reveal a dusty hallway. Faded images of generic landscapes lined the length of the hall and three doors at the end were all that indicated that it was anything but a glorified crawlspace. Looking through these doors, Dave found a bedroom, a luxurious bathroom, and a modest combined living and dining area. The bedroom was straight down the hall, while the living area was to the left and the bathroom to the right. The furniture within was as opulent as downstairs. Giant sculpted posts towered over him from each corner of his bed. An electric fan spun at a leisurely pace above him. The bathroom and kitchenette were both furnished with polished granite countertops and the living room and bedroom both included their own radios.

Certainly, it was leagues beyond the dingy apartment he'd grown up in back in Ward 12.

Dave sighed. He stretched his arms above his head for a moment before settling onto the bed's plush mattress and switching on the radio.

"Skaia Channel 12.4: Bringing you the best hits of the modern world..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback welcome. As usual.  
> What the fuck is proofreading? Slap that fucker onto the train to fanfic hell and push it down the hill.


	2. A Journey (A Kingdom of Dreams)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> naming chapters is bullshit but joe hisaishi music isn't [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwJDz707wgk) the rest of the story will be in present tense because why the fuck not

Karkat Vantas wakes as he always does. The tinny noise of his bedside alarm clock rouses him from his slumber and the warmth of the rays of light which filter through his curtains beckon him to action. He finds some clothes—a pair of faded black trousers and a wrinkled white shirt—and throws them on before going about his daily routine. He goes through the same motions.

Get dressed. Eat some breakfast. Work on whatever the hell he'd accomplished the day before. Write some new material...

It's all fairly standard. It's the monotonous routine he's long since fallen into and doesn't really want to change. And, yet, as the clocks prepares to strike noon, it dawns upon him that things  _will_ change. After all, he's got someone else living in the house with him. Some pompous, blond bastard with more self-inflated jackassery than personality.  _Dave Strider..._ He doesn't particularly want him here. His father had sent him, after all. Something about protecting the Cult of Cancer lineage.

Not that it matters to Karkat. He's never been into the whole family business. Hell, he's always despised it.

_No..._

He takes a deep breath in and follows it with a long, deep sigh.

_Not today. Today is not the day to get preoccupied with all that family drama._

By now, he's finished breakfast. He's washed the plates and is on his way to his desk—one of the few flat surfaces in the house without any dust on it—when he realizes that he's passing by the stairwell. He pauses.

_Dave is probably still asleep. And there's no point in waking the pompous bastard..._

Another sigh. He tugs absentmindedly at the mechanical power source attached to his hip—a fairly heavy, twenty pound box that worked by winding it up. Not the most reliable thing in the world, but it's probably better than nothing. He glances at the analogue display.

_Three hours._

He shrugs and moves to take a step forward. Something that seems to be in the lower portion of his left leg comes to an abrupt, tumultuous halt. He sways slightly and catches himself on the nearest of the two decorative columns which adorn either side of the staircase.

_Fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about..._

The shoulder he's leaning against slides a few inches down from its original position. The rest of him follows suit.

_Ah. Well. Fuck._

The world spins and the next thing he registers is the sight of Dave's feet as the man paces anxiously back and forth. Twenty strides forward, turn, repeat. And, as he does this, he seems to be muttering to himself. "Okay... Well... He's not... Dead? I don't think. And I've been paid... I'll just have to leave Skaia and change my name. That shouldn't be too hard. Something like Dirk would do it. Yeah. Dirk. Dirk Strider sounds good. But before that I have to hide the body... Or... Should I call an ambulance? I..."

Karkat frowns.

"I knew I shouldn't have taken this fuckin' job. Awful idea, Strider. Terrible. Fuckin' terrible."

_This is normal. Minus the pacing jackass muttering about body disposal, this is completely normal._

A quiet, involuntary huff of frustration escapes Karkat as he frees his left arm from its spot beneath the machinery.

Dave, in return, jumps. "Oh. Oh shit! Shit!" He stumbles backwards a few steps before rushing back. "You're okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Doing fan-fucking-tastic right here," Karkat grumbles, spitting out a chunk of molar that he could only presume was knocked off in the preceding chaos. He examines his recently freed hand. The skin is torn in a few places, but nothing seems broken. Some gauze should do the trick... "Yeah. Doing wonderful. Everything is fucking peachy."

"Oh... OH. You... Um... I came down after it sounded like someone dropped a cannonball on the floor and... Not you. I'm not saying you're a cannonball... I'm saying... Eh..." Dave pauses. He chews on his lip and runs his fingers through his golden blond hair before continuing. He keeps the same frenetic pacing. "I started thinking that you were dead because I tried to wake you up a few times and nothing happened. So, then I panicked and..."

"That's fucking great," Karkat interrupts. "Now, if you could stop babbling like a fucking toddler—"

"Sorry. Yeah. I... Um..." Dave bends over, reaches to grab Karkat by the waist, and is greeted with a strong punch. Enough to bloody his nose. "Fuck! What the hell was that for?"

"Keep your fucking grubby hands where I can at least feel them in a passably normal way."

"I didn't know..."

"Because you're not fucking listening!" Karkat snaps. He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and pushes Dave away from him. "Just leave me alone. This happens all the time and I can fix it without my deadbeat dad's hired help."

 

* * *

 

If his watch is anything to go by, the time is somewhere around 1:00 in the morning.

Dave Strider sighs. He pushes his tinted glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and downs another gulp of beer. Having climbed through his bedroom window and onto the roof, he now stares at the stars. He watches as tendrils of smoke rise from the burning end of his cigarette and counts the number of hot embers that drop from the tip and onto his face. Five. Five so far. Not too bad. He's had worse nights. He breathes a plume of smoke from his nostrils and closes his eyes. And, then, from somewhere below him, there comes a rock.

A pretty solid one, too. About an inch in diameter. It rushes past the end of his cigarette and flies through his open bedroom window. After a few moments, it crashes into what Dave could only assume was one of those tacky vases that adorned the room.

He figures that it isn't anything major. Probably some kids with too much time on their hands. So, after evaluating his position, he drops. He lands on the porch roof below and slides from this into the backyard, where he's greeted by a horrified-looking Karkat. And he responds to this unusual encounter with a smirk, shoving his hands into his pockets as he comments, "Do I get to go home now? Because I would happily take the money and put my ass on a train right back to Ward 12, seeing as you're so opposed to having me here."

For a brief moment, a look of anger flashes across Karkat's face. After taking a deep breath, however, it seems to disappear. "Actually... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for earlier. It's just..." He shrugs and shifts his weight slightly to the left. And, even in the dim light of the moon, Dave can make out enough to realize that he's managed to repair the machinery. At the very least, he's still wearing it. "Don't get me wrong. You're a total fucking twit. A massive asshole. But I shouldn't have punched you in the face and all that."

"Mhm?"

"That's it." Karkat shrugs. He winces slightly as he tries to straighten his back and lowers his gaze towards the grass. "I guess... I don't know." He shakes his head, as if to shoo a fly or some other pesky bug, and clears his throat. "I'll see you tomorrow." He turns and begins heading towards the back door.

And Dave, for some reason, stops him. "You don't have many friends, do you?" he calls.

Karkat, in returns, freezes. He turns his head to look over his shoulder. "What sort of fucking pointless question is that?"

"Just curious."

A brief pause. "I... No... I don't."

"I mean, if we're going to be chained together for a year..."

"Not interested." By now, Karkat has since turned his back on Dave. As he finishes saying this, he passes through the doorframe and slams the respective door shut.

And Dave, for some reason, finds himself intrigued. Or, perhaps, the feeling is closer to a mix of confusion and fear and attraction all in one.

Sure, Karkat's a blunt asshole. He's an abrasive guy with seemingly no redeeming qualities. But, then again, his eyes... The lines of discoloration which run vertically along his lip to show where he's gnawed away at it by habit...

No. Karkat is probably years ahead of him. What? His older brother's thirty; Karkat is probably in his late twenties.

No. None of this bullshit.

Dave shoves the intrusive thoughts into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind that he can quickly access and reenters the house the way he had exited it. He clambers onto the porch roof and, from there, scales upwards to the dormer window from which he'd escaped. And, after locking this window securely, he begins to prepare himself for bed.


	3. Okuribito (Memory)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [chanting] joe hisaishi joe hisaishi joe hisaishi [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiyFeT0Tpkk&list=PLF5F1C134220D425A&index=18) or [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5BP57OHwYk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As context, the Model B is anachronistic. I'm thinking [1932](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1932_Ford) here.

"So do I get any fuckin' awesome weapons or anything?"

Karkat frowns. He briefly diverts his eyes from the road and focuses on the blond in the passenger seat of his heavily modified Model B. "I... What?"

"I mean... I'm a bodyguard, right? How do I do any bodyguarding without some kickass gear?" Dave says in the most serious tone he can muster. "I mean... I at least get a pistol, right? A revolver? One of those umbrellas that are actually rifles?"

With a deep sigh, Karkat returns his attention to the road. He eases his grip on the modified gas lever and pulls on the brakes. The car slows to a stop. "Look, can we talk about this bullshit later? I'm trying to drive."

"Driving can't be that hard, right? Lots of people do it."

A quiet snarl. "Just shut the fuck up for ten fucking minutes. Ten. Fucking. Minutes. Is that so hard to do?"

"Yeah."

Ease off the brakes. Pull upwards, towards the steering wheel, on the accelerator. "Do you just enjoy making my life miserable? Are you some sort of demonic masochist sent from the deepest, most vile depths of hell just to personally torment me?"

"Probably."

"Okay... yeah... I probably deserve this..." Karkat mutters.

"So, where're you going? Is this going to be some sort of rad adventure?"

"Yeah. We're going to a volcano. Look inside and wait while I push you," Karkat snaps as he maneuvers the car into a tight parallel spot by the door. "Be useful for once and tell me how I look in the back."

"To be honest, you do have a fine ass."

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!"

"Okay. fine. Jeez. You've got space to back up."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Oh," sighs a thoroughly exasperated Karkat, "There are so, so many problems. But we don't have time to get into those, now, do we?"

"Probably not."

The atmosphere settles into an uneasy silence for a few minutes. However once Karkat is done parking, Dave continues, "Neat car. Great ride. Must've cost an arm and a leg to get this thing custom made."

Here, Karkat offers a wry smile. By this point, he's gotten out of the car and is in the process of fishing his crutches from the backseat. "Technically, it cost two functional legs and they didn't even take that shit as payment."

Dave ignores the comment. He shrugs and slams the door on his side shut. "So what're we doing here?"

"Kanaya's a friend of mine," Karkat mutters as he gets himself situated. He flexes his fingers a few times before wrapping them around the designated portions of his crutches. "She's a tailor by trade. Makes the best shit around. Can't get any fucking better."

"Cool. Why're we getting the customs, though?"

"Because the one time I didn't was the last time I wore a regular suit and it literally caught on fire after getting sucked into the fucking assembly line strapped to my leg. Is that a good enough explanation for you?"

Dave shrugs. "I dunno' I think they're pretty cool."

"Yeah. I love having a maximum speed of one and a half miles per hour and not having the option of running. Isn't that every child's fucking dream life?" Here, Karkat pauses. He looks towards the twelve marble stairs leading to the elevated porch. "And stairs. I fucking love stairs. They're just the most beautiful things to exist on this fucking awful planet."

"Sheesh. Tell me how you really feel."

"If I don't die on the way up that might be what I'll do," Karat grumbles as he grabs onto the railing and plants the crutch in his free hand on the second step.

Dave, meanwhile, drops the cocky, annoying act he's been putting up all day. "I... Is that safe?"

Karkat shrugs. He heaves himself upwards, balances on the second step, and repeats the process. "Nope. Probably not."

"Oh... Okay... Yeah..."

"Why are you so damn concerned, anyhow?" By now, he's reached the sixth step. "I thought you confirmed that you were, in fact, a masochistic demon from the fucking underworld of the underworld sent to make my life miserable."

"Well... Yeah. But I mean... Isn't there a better way to do this?" Dave mutters, averting his gaze and focusing on a line of ants working its way down the sidewalk. "And I'm not trying to  _kill_ you. Actually, it's kind of my job to make sure you're  _not_ dead so..."

"I'm done, asshole."

Dave looks up just in time to see Karkat tugging at his jacket sleeves to fix them to the appropriate length. "Oh... So... What about the opposite?"

Here, Karkat offers a half-bemused and half-annoyed smile. "You mean going  _down the stairs_? You'll find that out later." He motions his head towards the front door of the shop. "We're already late."

Dave nods. He follows a few steps behind and enters into an opulent world of dark oak and marble. And, all along these opulent countertops, there are suits and dresses and clothes of all sorts. Fashions he's never even thought could exist. Vests with buttons made of gold and diamond and cufflinks of ivory and silver. Dresses made of shining silk with lace accents made of golden thread. Pins and sculpted corsages made of fossils and bones and treasures gilded in the finest metals. And, amidst it all, there's a woman with jade eyes and thick, wild black hair and dark brown skin.

"I was just preparing to call the cops to find you." Her voice is soft and melodious. There's a certain elegance to it. "I'm assuming you're here to pick up your last order?"

"Mhm." Karkat frowns. His gaze drops to avert hers. "Yeah. New suit."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Kankri's getting married. It's a big, stupid affair that I want absolutely nothing to do with. But, apparently, I'm family. So I have to fucking show up." He shrugs, leans his weight to the right, and lets the left crutch dangle from his raised arm. He watches it intently as it swings back and forth like some sort of strange pendulum. "It's supposed to be this fucking party. Huge deal. All that sort of flashy, pointless shit."

"Mhm," Kanaya nods slowly.

"Yeah. I couldn't care less. And apparently  _everyone_ who's  _anyone_ is coming with a date or something." A bitter smirk spreads across his features. He rolls his eyes. "Yeah. And Kankri's just fucking getting on my case about trying to find someone. Yeah. Right. Hello, world, this high maintenance bastard is on the market. Any takers?"

Here, for some reason, Dave feels something crawling inside of him. It's a strange sensation that works its way from his chest to his mouth and, to be quite honest, he's pretty certain it's vomit. When it reaches his lips, however, it comes as a quiet mutter. "I mean... You're pretty cute..."

And Karkat, in return, freezes. His gaze shifts towards Dave, who just so happens to be standing in the corner of the room, and there's a certain sort of anger to it. A fiery resentment. And, when he speaks, there's a definite bite to his words. "I didn't fucking ask you, you fucking twit."

"Sorry," Dave responds instinctively.

Kanaya, meanwhile, smirks. "Well, if your new boyfriend—"

"He's my bodyguard. My dad sent him because he thinks I can't take care of my fucking self," interjects Karkat. Despite the edge in his voice, he's returned his gaze to the dangling crutch. "I'd rip my own fucking brain stem out before I even acted like I could tolerate the bastard."

"Your bodyguard or your father?"

 _Touché_.  _Whoever she is, Kanaya would get along splendidly with Rose..._

"Hm?" Karkat frowns. He slowly raises his gaze towards the woman behind the counter. "I... both... Both probably..." he mutters.

"Mhm." Kanaya's smirk grows wider. "Okay, well, whatever the case may be, I have some final adjustments to make to the suit. If you'd agree to wait perhaps an hour, it should be ready."

"Yeah. I don't have anything else to do."

A small nod. Kanaya disappears behind a veil of black silk to what can only be her workshop.

And Dave, by now able to feel the heat that's risen to his cheeks, finds himself alone.

Sure, Karkat's there. But the guy seems to have some sort of personal vendetta against him. And, really, from what he's learned, Karkat's not exactly a great person to spend one-on-one time with, either. Still... "Sorry. I don't know why I said anything. Talent of mine, I guess. Dave Strider opens his mouth and shit flies out. Come see it today for twenty dollars..."

Karkat, in return, offers a small smile—something Dave has yet to see, and something that he can't help but find pretty damned attractive. "Yeah. True. Twenty is a bit overpriced. And I'm sure I'd make a metric fuckton more than you. Come see the bionic man with the grace of a drunken elephant." He pauses, lowers his left crutch, and sighs. "You're not a bad guy... i mean... Kanaya's probably right..."

"Kanaya's pretty cute," Dave mentions offhandedly.

"Hm. I like guys better. But that's me." Karkat shrugs. He wanders over to one of the sofas which line the wall and drops onto it, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulls himself into a more comfortable position. "I'm pretty sure I won't find a date before then, though, so I might as well act like I like you. It'd at least make my dad happy. And Kankri might finally shut up about how I need to stop locking myself in the house."

"So you're saying you would be down to acting like we're dating for a day?" Dave inquires, grinning slyly.

"Don't get too cocky about it. It's a one-day thing and you're still an annoying bastard."

Dave, meanwhile, creeps a bit closer to the sofa. "Are you like this with everyone?"

"Like what?" Karkat snaps. "Angry and shouty? Yeah. Sure. I guess. But for you and only you, there is a burning, insatiable desire to kick your fucking awful ass."

"Mhm." Another step closer. "When's this shitfest, anyhow?"

"A week or two."

Dave nods slowly. He inches even closer to the sofa and, after a moment of hesitation, takes a seat beside his employer.

And Karkat responds with a startled jump. His gaze rips itself away from the floor and settles on Dave as if he's a live bomb. "Fuck," he breathes. "There's plenty of other benches to sit on. By all means, please, go sit on one of those."

"Why? There's space here."

As if to make himself take up less space, Karkat folds his arms across his chest. A tense silence begins to descend, though its progress is halted when Karkat unexpectedly speaks up. "You used to be a clockmaker, right?"

"Hm?" Dave frowns. He looks over to Karkat and raises his right brow. "What? Where the fuck is this—?"

Karkat stares forward. His eyes are locked on the black veil hiding the workshop from the public eye. "Your information. Dad sent it to me after he hired you." He chews on his lip and leans back a bit, only to shoot back to his original position with a hiss of discomfort. "It said you were a clockmaker."

"Yeah?"

"Ever been outside Ward 12?"

"Not until now."

A slow nod. "Is it nice?"

"Ward 12?" Dave wrinkles his nose and laughs bitterly. "The smoke literally kills you. I don't know a single bastard over the age of seventy. And, if the smoke doesn't get you, the machines will. Known plenty of fuckin' shitheads who got caught up in machines. They get pulled through and the bloody produce is removed before business resumes as usual."

"So I've heard..."

"Yeah. It's true." Here, Dave pauses. He sighs. "Everyone knows you, though... It's kind of nice. We all know each other for the most part. Sure, it's a shit place to live, but at least everyone knows your name." He picks at some dead skin around his right thumbnail as he continues, "Nothing like around here. Everyone living in separate mansions and all that fuckin' shit. Most of us are in apartments. Not that much crime, either, since there's damned near nothing to steal."

Karkat nods. "Yeah... It's boring up here... Guess you've noticed." He frowns, winces, and reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a small box—no bigger than a cigarette carton—and dumps out a handful of odd-looking pills. As he returns the box to his pocket, he pulls a flask of what is presumably water from somewhere along his waist. ( _It doesn't smell like alcohol. It doesn't smell like anything, really. What the fuck else could it be?_ ) He downs the pills and grimaces.

"Getting high over there or something?" Dave mutters absentmindedly.

"For all the bullshit about never feeling below  _x_ point, there's a surprising amount of pain. Staggering, really." He says this casually, as if it's a passing remark. And, when he's done, he shrugs.

Dave drops his gaze to the ground and focuses on a nonspecific point. "Sorry."

"It's a thing." Another shrug from Karkat. He checks his watch.

A uneasy silence falls between the two.

After a while, Dave raises his gaze and allows it to settle on Karkat once more. Seeing as the other man isn't paying any attention, he takes the opportunity to study him a bit closer. And, for the first time, it dawns upon him that the grey leather around his lower torso isn't a vest. It's a thick, seemingly rigid belt that supports him. In fact, thinking about it now, he's yet to see Karkat lean over to any extent... And, then, there's the metal tag around his neck—a dog tag-like thing with his name cut into its surface and a list of what Dave can only assume are medical terms on the back. That and the standard crab emblem of his family, though that's been aggressively scratched out with what Dave can only presume was a knife of some sort.

"You're done."

Kanaya's voice breaks the silence. She stands behind the counter with a full black suit draped over her arm.

Karkat, in response, rises. He steps up to the counter and pulls out a beaten up leather wallet. "How much?"

"It's free."

"No, really, Kanaya. How much?"

"It's free. Do you wish for me to spell this for you? It is F. R. E. E. No cost. Your money shall remain safely in your wallet."

Karkat sighs. He shoves the wallet back into his pocket and nods. "Okay. Whatever. Thanks for this."

The tailor nods. She motions for Karkat to lean in closer and, when he does, she whispers something in his ear.

Karkat's response is a confused scowl.

Kanaya, however, ignores this. After handing over the suit, she offers a curt wave. "See you again soon, Karkat."

"Yeah," Karkat grumbles, motioning for Dave to follow him, "See you later."

From here, the awkward silence continues. It persists as Karkat descends the twelve stairs in front of the building.

_The process is the same as before, Going down, not up, of course._

The drive back is silent. And, while Dave isn't about to claim that he's an expert on understanding anything about Karkat, he gets a strong sense that the silence should be left as it is. There's something more to it than usual. Something beyond the usual tenseness. Now, it has a sense of order. It seems to have a purpose; at least, that's how it seems to Dave. And, so, for the time being, he leaves it alone.

Without any intervention, the silence natural drags on.

Karkat disappears to his room when they arrive at the house and Dave sees nothing of him for the rest of the day.

Around seven, the smell of freshly prepared sausage and eggs draws Dave downstairs. There, he finds a singular plate set on the dining room table. Karkat, however, is nowhere to be found.

Not that it really bothers him. He's perfectly fine without the grouchy bastard. Still...

_Oh shit. Oh. Shit. No. There is no way that the cool and collected Strider is going to fall for this fuckin' inexplicable mess that is Karkat Vantas. Absolutely zero chances. A negative percent probability that it will happen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback are always welcome. Also, totes click on the song links because Joe Hisaishi is a gift to us all.


	4. A Town With an Ocean View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From _Kiki's Delivery Service_
> 
>  
> 
> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vD1yAEWpzeQ)

Dave finds himself alone in the empty mansion. He's been alone since this morning.

When he'd woken up, he'd found a note taped to the door. Something about Karkat going to get some groceries and wanting to be alone. He figured (and still does) that not that much can happen between the house and wherever the hell the store is, so he leaves the issue alone. Instead, he takes what could possibly be an even less recommended course of action. Bored and curious, he begins to wander through the house.

He starts in the living room.

Here, he notes how wide the space between furniture is. He notes the array of pictures which hang from the wall. Of them, not a single one is of Karkat. Instead, they're mostly art reproductions. Old, dark, and dreary paintings signed by some bastard named Caravaggio. Some of them are by more modern artists. And, then, there's the radio. It's hooked to a fine record player—one of those high-quality, expensive ones that has a needle made of (according to the posters) "the finest, most acoustic material known to man. With a motor made of the most durable, friction-resistant metals available."

By Dave's own estimates, it's bullshit. Massive, steaming piles of bullshit. The old machines he had back at home were just as good, right?

He looks around—a wholly useless exercise since Karkat's out of the house—before deciding that there's no harm in taking a look at it. He reaches up and unlatches the cabinet above the record player. He shuffles through the selections. It's mostly old instrumental bullshit. Dusty, useless bullshit. Clearly, nothing worth listening to. He closes the cabinet doors and latches them shut.

In the kitchen, he finds signs of early morning life. An unwashed plate of what seems to have been scrambled eggs is in the sink. A few drawers hang open an inch or so. An empty cup of coffee is still on the table, the last few drops still at the bottom.

Moving onwards, he meanders down the main hallway. Somehow, he ends up in front of the door to Karkat's room.

He's curious enough to reach for the handle. Then, to turn it. And, after a few moments, he steps into the room.

It's surprisingly sparse. A desk in the corner has a typewriter on it and discarded papers scattered around it. The bed seems to have had the legs cut down so that it's much lower than originally designed and the southernmost wall is covered in pinned-up notes. Reminders to get certain things from the store and to get new ink ribbons. Nothing important, really. Nothing that he can really consider to be anywhere near interesting.

So, he leaves. He wanders back into the living room and sits down on the sofa. Dust flies upwards around him as he settles into the plush cushions and stares vacantly at the slowly rotating fan above him.

 

* * *

 

Karkat Vantas sits in the shade of a massive oak tree. The weather is fair and the air crisp. Fall is nearing its end.

Soon, it'll be far too cold for him to be able to do this. So, he figures he'll enjoy it while he can.

He folds his arms across his chest and watches as the clouds above him roll by. They go at their own speed—some faster than others, others seemingly stagnant.

"You like him, don't you?"

Karkat jumps. His gaze settles on the source of the interruption—the woman from before, Kanaya. He lets forth an indignant huff and averts his gaze. "No. Fuck that blond asshole. For all I care he can leave. Won't be that much of a loss."

Kanaya nods slowly. "You're saying this, but I get the distinct feeling that you feel otherwise."

"I hire you as my tailor, not my therapist," protests Karkat.

"Mhm. Well, whatever the case may be, you should just try talking to him." She reaches into the pocket of her dark purple jacket and pulls forth two crumpled paper coupons. "You like that awful seafood establishment down the street, don't you? The one that Sollux's brother runs?"

"Maybe."

"You're terrible at hiding your feelings, Karkat." Kanaya grabs his hand and pushes the coupons against his palm. She winks, waves, and departs without another word.

Karkat, meanwhile, is left clutching two vouchers for "50% off a single meal." He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He considers throwing them out. Still, they afford a pretty massive discount on one of the most expensive seafood places in town... Another sigh. He folds the coupons and slips them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and also the next will be longer


	5. On A Clear Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From _Kiki's Delivery Service_ and technically a medley of songs from Budokan
> 
> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4LrW5f4dyc)

"It's too early for snow," Karkat muses as he stares out the window. Yet, despite what he says, snowflakes continue to fall from the sky. Some are colored a light grey. These have probably been carried all the way from the outer industrial districts. After all, the wind around Skaia has its own unique way. It tends to push inwards, towards the center of the country, where it brings together elements from all over the region.

Not that the weather patterns really matter to Dave. "It's late fall. It would've happened eventually."

"Snow is fucking awful."

"Snow is fucking wonderful. Back in Ward 12, we get days off if it's too bad. They don't have the fancy melting shit they have here, so the roads will just be inches and inches of fuckin' snow. It's great."

"Sounds like a nightmare to me," sighs Karkat. He frowns and watches as the wind strengthens. It whisks the snowflakes upwards for a brief second, spinning them gracefully, before it drops them to the ground. He folds his arms so that they rest atop the windowsill and rests his chin atop them. "Well. This'll be a few days where I get to do absolutely fucking nothing. How wonderful."

"You don't have anything other than those weird metal things?" Dave asks. "C'mon, dude, snow is great."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Karkat sarcastically concurs. "Look, you can go act like a fucking five year old all you want. Shove a snowball up your ass for all I care. But I'm not partaking in your asinine shenanigans."

Dave smirks. "You sound like some cranky old man, dude. Lighten up a little." He grabs his coat—a faded old wool and leather overcoat that used to belong to his older brother—and throws it on over his usual clothes. He pulls gloves from the pockets and slips them on before departing, leaving Karkat alone in the house.

And Karkat, seeing little else to do, stops watching the snow. He returns to his room, where he settles down and begins to peck away at his old typewriter. From time to time he stops. He wanders into the kitchen, haphazardly pulls something from the fridge, and eats it. Then, he returns to his work.

At some point in the later hours of the afternoon, he hears someone knocking on his window. He glances up and finds Dave standing in snow. It reaches to just above his ankles and, more importantly, he seems to be motioning for him to open the window. Against all instinct, Karkat complies. He steps forward and slides open the window, only to stumble backwards as Dave climbs through it and into his room.

He brushes some of the snow from his golden blond hair and shrugs. "It's damn cold outside."

"It's snowing, jackass," Karkat growls. "Of course it's cold out."

"Hm. Yeah. That makes sense." Dave nods. "I didn't shove a snowball up my ass, by the way. Bro always told me not to put the first snow of the season into any bodily orifices."

Karkat rolls his eyes. "Yes. Of course. If only you'd just stick a chunk of ice down your massive fucking mouth and I could actually get something done around here."

"Not my fault you're some grouchy old bastard."

"I'm not grouchy," Karkat shoots back. "I'm just tired of your fucking bullshit."

"It's only been a week, Kark," Dave disputes.

"You call me that again and you'll only be a bloodstain on my carpet," Karkat snaps. "Look, I get it. People in Ward 12 have great, fun lives. Rich people are all stuck up assholes. Can we stop flinging this discourse back and forth like fucking monkey shit?"

Dave frowns. He quirks his brow. "What the hell're you talking about? I just like annoying you. And, yeah, you should totally lighten up. But that's your decision."

Here, Karkat, took, frowns. "So... You're telling me you're just naturally this fucking annoying?"

"Yeah." Dave shrugs. "In the lower Wards, you've got two options. You can mope all the fuckin' time or you can at least try and have fun. I like the second one."

Karkat sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair. "So... You got any family?"

"My cousin... sister... Her relationship is questionable but she's pretty fuckin' rad." A brief pause. After a few seconds of thought, Dave continues, "And there's my older brother. He's a fuckin' deadbeat. Disappeared a while ago. Pretty sure he got eaten in the carpet manufacturing line he worked at."

"Eaten?" Karkat's frown deepens. His brows furrow until the shadows they form are in enough shadow to seem drawn-on—hard-edged and dark and almost unnatural.

Dave, however, snickers. "It's Ward 12 slang. When people get caught up in the machines, they're eaten. Probably comes from the fact that there's no way in hell you're coming out in one piece, but I'm not a word historian."

"Etymologist?"

"Whatever the fuck that is, it sounds fancy."

Another long, deep sigh. Karkat massages the middle, forefinger, and thumb of his right hand against the corresponding temple. He motions for Dave to follow him and wanders into the main living space. "You're a fucking nightmare," he grumbles as he reaches the stove and begins preparing a serving of hot chocolate. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Dave settle into place on the sofa. "Around here, they always taught us that the worker movements a few decades ago made the lower wards much nicer places to live."

"They teach us the same thing. But it's kind of hard to swallow when you get your first assignment at thirteen."

"Oh."

"So, what's got you so fuckin' interested in my life, anyhow?"

Karkat turns.

He finds Dave sprawled out on the sofa, his feet propped up on the armrest. He seems neither happy nor sad; actually, he just seems bored.

"I... Don't know. I always thought that people from the lower Wards thought they had better lives than people in Ward 1." Karkat pauses. He rubs the back of his neck and checks the hot chocolate before continuing, "That sounds like bullshit."

"Yeah," Dave shrugs. "So, does that mean I get to ask you some questions?"

Karkat pauses. He checks the hot chocolate once more. It seems ready. He pours two glasses and sets the pot aside in the sink. "Yeah," he grumbles as he sets Dave's drink down on the nearby coffee table and returns to retrieve his own. "I guess. Not like there's anything else to do..."

Dave nods.

He waits until Karkat has returned and is settled in his chair by the fire. It's not exactly close; but, it's not too far away either. Once he's settled, though, Dave speaks up. "So... Um... Any reason you use those things instead of something more feasible?"

"My braces?" Karkat asks, his voice hinting at a certain degree of confusion. "I don't know. They're usually the first things I find. No real reason. Most of the other shit they have available isn't all that great for actually getting around this shithole of a city."

"I guess that's what you call them?" Dave shrugs. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and sets it aside, folding his arms as he thinks. Surely, there are questions to ask this guy. "So..." He lets the first thing he can think of slip off his tongue—something that is never a great idea—and continues. "So... It's permanent?"

"No, I just wear these because they're aesthetically pleasing," Karkat responds, rolling his eyes.

"And if you take all that shit off?"

"Nothing happens. Unfortunately, I don't have some sort of secret hidden agenda here," Karkat waves his hand dismissively. "Look, are we just talking about this or do you have any actual questions to ask me?"

"Hm?" Dave lowers his gaze. He focuses on an nonspecific part of the wood flooring. "When's the wedding thing?"

"Tomorrow's the rehearsal."

"Already?"

Karkat smirks. "You say that like you're excited. What? You can't wait to get out there and get your scout badge for helping the elderly?"

"You're not elderly, though. You're what? Thirty?"

"Twenty,"

_He's actually twenty?_

Nodding slowly, Dave lets the information sink in. He opens his mouth, intending to say something pointless. Instead, when he speaks, it comes as, "So you're a year younger than me?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Heat rushes to Dave's cheeks. He forces the feeling down and offers what he's sure will be an awkward smile. "Nothing. Just... I'm going to bed."

"It's only five?"

"I'm going. To bed," Dave repeats emphatically.

By now, he's retreated halfway up the stairs. Karkat's voice is little more than a distant buzz as he rushes down the hallway and slams the door shut.

_You have done it, Strider. You have absolutely done it. Look how big this mess is. Fuckin' huge mess you've made here._


	6. Fragile Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zL7c5Z0HDA)

Karkat Vantas sits in the front seat of his car. His fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel. His eyes dart about wildly yet focus on nothing. He chews on his lip and tugs at his rigid detachable collar. "Fucking hate formal situations," he growls. "And we're late. We might as well turn around and head back."

Dave shrugs. He folds his arms across his chest and toys with his own collar. After a few moments, however, he manages to pull the clasp free. It tumbles from his grip and disappears amidst a sea of leather upholstery. He blinks. Clearly, this is not his moment of shining high-class civility.

Karkat, thankfully, doesn't seem to notice this oversight. Rather, he continues his aggressive glaring. His fingers tap against the wheel with more force. "Traffic around here fucking sucks. Why here? Why can't we just have a nice, quiet deal at the mansion or whatever?"

Dave shrugs. He notices someone walking towards them. A man who, in appearance, is essentially an older Karkat. His hair is slightly curlier and his eyes a reddish brown rather than silver, but he's otherwise Karkat's clone. "That jackass your bro?"

Karkat nods. His eyes dart quickly towards Dave, though. "You pulled your collar off, you fucking asswipe."

"It was uncomfortable."

A loud, exasperated, and thoroughly exhausted moan escapes Karkat. He rolls down the window of his car and lifts himself slightly to get a better look at the approaching figure. "Shit. It is. Goddammit."

"Karkat!"

He sinks lower in his seat. He closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. "I'm not ready for this today."

"Oh! How wonderful for you! You got a date!" The man approaches and sticks his head through the window. He offers Dave an oddly annoying smile. "It's so kind of you to agree to come with Karkat. He's rather cranky, but he's a good guy. For the most part. Great to meet you, um..."

"Dave," Karkat grumbles. "His name's Dave. And he's technically the bodyguard you probably talked Dad into sending over." He frowns, pulls himself back into a more ergonomic position and glares at his older sibling. "Now, are you here to yell at us for being late?"

"Oh, no. You missed the rehearsal. It's fine. I just came to tell you to pull out of this traffic and follow us to the restaurant."

"You're fucking shitting me," Karkat mutters under his breath.

"Hm?"

"Nothing. I'll follow the fucking circus parade." Here, Karkat shoves Kankri away from the car. He rolls up the window and fiddles with the controls until the car is in the lane which heads in the opposite direction. Eventually, the car lurches forwards. It follows the procession to some overdone, pricey bar. The Golden Swan.

Its windows tower far above the patrons. The crystal chandeliers reflect light in every direction, scattering it like panicked ants. Rainbow hues dance across satin suits and starched formal collars. And, amidst all of this, Dave and Karkat sit at the bar. While Dave doesn't partake in the drinking, Karkat is more than happy to spend his brother's money. It is, after all, on his brother's tab.

So far, he's ordered several beers. He's long past the beginnings of to getting drunk. He sways slightly, though he catches himself before he can ever go anywhere. He swirls a shining glass of wine in his hand. He watches with the utmost vigilance as the liquid inside twists and writhes under his influence. He snickers. "My brother is such a fucking asswipe," he mutters. "Never have gotten along. All he ever does is patronize absolutely everyone."

Dave frowns. He looks towards Karkat and nods slowly.

"And his new husband, Cronus? That bastard's no better. The Amporas are a line of filthy money-hogging bankers. They'll tell you you're going to get rich investing in them and then they just take your cash." He frowns, downs the wine in one gulp, and turns his attention back to an open bottle of beer. He throws it aside, watching intently as it shatters at his feet, and looks at his watch.

"Do you think it's time to leave, dude? They've got the drunk bus taking people back," Dave mutters.

Karkat raises his brow curiously. "Hm? Nah." He tilts himself forward a bit and leans his elbows against the bar. "Anything else back there?"

The bartender turns and frowns. "I think you've had enough for the night, sir... Are you even old enough to be drinking?"

"Legal age is eighteen, right?" Karkat sways dangerously to the left before grabbing onto the counter and pulling himself into a more reasonable position. "Look, I don't want to fucking be here. There are at least five different places I could be right now besides my asshole of a brother's wedding rehearsal. I didn't even make it for the rehearsal, so why the fuck am I here?" He leans forward to try and grab a drink from behind the bar before he's abruptly pushed back by the reasonably irate bartender. He catches himself before falling and rolls his eyes. "Hey, buddy, I've got the right to drink here. It's all paid for."

"We should leave," Dave repeats, louder this time.

Karkat ignores the comment. He begins spewing vulgarities at the bartender.

Dave, meanwhile, looks around the room. His eyes fall upon Kanaya. Talking to her would probably be useful. She seems to know Karkat pretty well; certainly, she could...

A loud crash. Dave turns around and finds Karkat on the ground. A stout, bald man towers above him. "Security" is emblazoned in gold upon the man's pocket.

_This is going fuckin' fantastic, isn't it?_

Dave stumbles from his seat and tries to intervene, only to be swiftly shoved aside. "Hey. Hey. I'm not saying this guy's not an asshole," he continues to plead despite the fact that he seems to be little more than one of thousands of chattering voices in the crowd, "This guy's a total asshole. But he's kind of really fuckin' drunk right now, so... Maybe... Don't beat the shit out him?"

The security worker, whose name tag only reads "HB," sneers. He leans over, grabs onto the collar of Karkat's shirt, and hauls him into the air.

"Hey, buddy, we've got the same job here. You're security here and I'm security for this fuckin' bastard. Cut me some slack."

A slow nod from whoever the hell HB is. He steps forward, offers Dave a solid kick to the gut, and drops Karkat next to him. "Fine," he grunts. "Just get the hell out of here."

"Absolutely," Dave mutters, glancing at Karkat.

He's stunned. Probably because he never thought anyone at the place would lay a hand on him. Still, there's so many people that it'd be hard to keep track of all of the so-called important guests. What's more important to Dave in that moment, however, is that he seems unharmed. The only exceptions to this happen to be a busted lip and what Dave is betting will be some severely damaged dignity when he sobers up. Still, that's insubstantial.

He evaluates the situation and attempts to pull Karkat to his feet.

Clearly, this is very much appreciated by his employer, who lands a solid punch against his jaw.

Dave remains undeterred. He signed up for this bullshit; he might as well try and do it right... Right? He heaves the inebriated Vantas over his shoulder and manages to stumble into the parking lot, only to realize a rather important detail.

"You... You don't know anyone here who could drive us home, do you?"

Karkat frowns. He wipes some of the blood from his lip and shrugs. "That car of mine is fucked up. Completely custom never-been-done-before job. I'm the only guy who can drive it." Here, he pauses. However, he quickly recovers from his apparent lapse in thought. "Nope. We're stuck here. Isn't that fucking amazing?"

"Where the hell are we?"

"Mmm... Probably a three hour walk back." Karkat's frown deepens. "You... You did get all of my shit from inside, right?"

"And by that you mean...?"

"I mean that you left my crutches inside, you incompetent trash heap."

"I... did?" Dave, too, frowns. a quick glance around confirms this fact. "Well... I can just..."

"Boxcar's a real bastard. He'll rip out your fucking throat," Karkat grumbles.

Dave sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair.

_Dave Strider: The ultimate failure. That should probably be his new job title..._

Something slams against him. A fist comes in contact with his nose and the distinct taste of blood works its way to his mouth. He looks up to find Karkat pinning him to the ground. "What the fuck was that for, you fuckin' asshole?"

"Because you suck," Karkat spits. "I never wanted you anyhow. My asshole dad did. And now you've fucked this entire fucking circus up."

In the distance, Dave catches onto the sound of police sirens. He sighs. "I'm sorry, dude. You're drunk as hell right now. I'm not fuckin' arguing with you." Something begins to dig into his thigh. Glancing down, it dawns upon him that it's a detached bar from the braces. "Get off of me, dammit."

"Make me," Karkat sneers.

Another sigh. Dave pushes Karkat off of him.

The stunned, inebriated Vantas skids a few feet across the asphalt of the parking lot. He comes to rest against the bumper of an ugly vintage car.

The police sirens are louder. They're closer.

By now, Karkat seems to have resigned to spewing profanities. And he continues to do so as both he and Dave are handcuffed and thrown into separate police cars.

 

* * *

 

Seeing as the watch that Karkat has was broken in the fight, Dave Strider has no idea of what time it could be. For all he knows, it's been a year trapped in some posh prison. He sits atop a bed with its own mattress and stares at the wallpapered cell around him. It's leagues ahead of anywhere he'd ever managed to land himself in Ward 12...

He's already calculated how much of his savings will disappear if he quits. Not that the finances concern him. When the hell did he ever get the idea that he'd ever manage to escape his low-income industrial ward? Wherever and whenever it was that it came about, it's a shitty idea. A stupid, idealistic dream. And that's all it will ever be.

He glances at Karkat.

By now, he's asleep. Dried vomit covers the front of his suit. He probably has another, though; after all, his family's rich as hell...

How had he ever thought that the drunken bastard could have ever enjoyed his presence? That he was anything different from the usual rich rabble?

"He's going to forget this by the time he wakes up."

Dave frowns. His eyes dart upwards and land on Kanaya, who just so happens to be standing on the other side of the cell bars. Her arms are folded across her exquisite and undoubtedly original design dress. Her brow is quirked so that one is slightly higher than the other and pair of brass crutches dangle from her left wrist. "You forgot these, by the way."

"He did," Dave hisses. "I quit."

"Do you?" Kanaya hums. "He's going to be quite disappointed to find that out. Besides, his infantile antics are already all over the news. There's no possible way that he'll be staying a part of the Vantas lineage."

"Yeah? Well he told me already that he didn't want me here. So I'm taking my money and leaving. And I'm not real damn concerned about his family problems, either."

An oddly elegant shrug. Kanaya's jade green gaze drifts towards Karkat as she continues, "Well, it's your choice. I'm just saying that he's told me a few times that he likes you. Sure, you annoy him. But he's never had anyone live with him or stick around him for a long time, so..." She slides the crutches between the bars and offers a small, enigmatic smile as she departs. "Think about it, Dave."

 

* * *

 

 

Karkat Vantas wakes to find himself in a prison cell. The ceiling above him is a pure white and the mattress beneath him is relatively subpar. It's hard and somewhat springy. He frowns, tries to sit up, and drops back as pain shoots down his lower back. "Fuck," he mutters.

"You're awake." A familiar voice draws his attention. He turns his head to face it and finds himself staring at Dave Strider. For some reason, he sports a nasty black eye.

"Have I been asleep...?" Karkat frowns. He forces himself into a sitting position before catching himself against the wall. "Where's... Is this some sort of fucking awful prank?"

"Nope. you got yourself here, jackass," Dave responds. He folds his arms across his chest and turns so that his back faces Karkat. "You got drunk at the rehearsal dinner. Got us kicked out and told me you never wanted me working for you."

"The rehearsal dinner...?" A look of genuine confusion fades It shifts into wide-eyed terror. "Fuck! Fucking shit! Where're my...?"

"They broke. You went and fucked 'em over real bad," Dave hums, taking some pleasure in the resultant whimper of disappointment. "Not my fault. Oh, and you puked on your suit."

"Shit." Karkat runs his fingers through his hair. "This is a rental. I'm so fucking screwed. Shit."

"Yeah, and you can have fun with that, because I'm leaving."

"What?" For the first time, it dawns upon Karkat that Dave is on the other side of the bars. His usual semi-formal clothing has been swapped for a pure red factory jumpsuit with his name embroidered on the Mandarin collar. "Wait. No. Shit. What the fuck happened last night?"

"Ask someone who gives a fuck," Dave shrugs.

Karkat responds with a growl of frustration. "What about the real wedding?"

"Oh?" Dave turns around so that his smirk is apparent. "You're banned. Your family's cut you out. So, hey, there goes your fuckin' house. Ain't that just the most satisfying thing you've ever heard? No? Because I'm pretty entertained right now." He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans his shoulder against the metal bars. "You've got ten days to leave the house before they throw you back in here."

"But... Everything in my house...?"

Dave shrugs. He points to a small box of assorted papers and a pair of crutches. "That's what you've got now."

"Fuck." Karkat sighs. He leans against the wall behind him and stifles the rising lump in his throat. "Well... I guess I don't have to deal with them..."

"Or that suit. Or me," Dave interjects.

"No!" Karkat frowns. He leans forward by instinct and hisses as he catches himself against edge of the mattress. "Fuck. Please. You're the only person I know outside of my shitty family and Kanaya. And..." He pauses, rummages through his pocket, and pulls out his wallet. "I'll pay you. Get me somewhere other than here and I'll leave you alone for the rest of eternity. Promise."

Dave nods slowly. He rubs the back of his neck and hums some odd, probably made-up tune before offering a flat response, "Yeah. Whatever. But it'll be on the train."

"That'll take weeks," Karkat mutters.

"Not my fault. I'm just going home at this point." Looking at the ground, Dave scuffs the tip of his shoe against the cement floor. "Oh, and they kind of took back my pay."

"Oh..."

Another shrug. He pulls off his odd tinted glasses to reveal a pair of vibrant red eyes. "They'll let you out in about an hour. Told me to tell you that they want you out of Ward 1 before sundown."

"And if not?" Karkat huffs.

"Then they'll physically remove you." Once again, Dave turns so that his back faces Karkat. He begins to walk off. "Not my problem, jackass."

And, as these last words linger in the air and the door to the holding cells slams closed, Karkat finds himself alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for watching today's episode of "unexpected plot twists that occur over an unexpectedly long chapter"


	7. The Legend of Ashitaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XOV2L-eM38) (this plot's gon get fuckin rekt)  
>  another song that's not joe hisaishi that can go with this is from professor layton [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cB-1pqFu1io)

The train car is fairly small. It's got enough room for two men (specifically, Dave and Karkat) to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with one another between the beds on either side. An ugly, faded red curtain can be pulled across the room to divide it in half and its two windows—one on either side of the curtain—can be opened. The door is little more than a panel of sliding wood that can be locked in place at night. A brass horn just below the window serves as the train crew's means of communication with the passengers. It announces arrivals and departures and reminds everyone of when the food trucks open and close.

Since his unceremonious removal from his family, Karkat has scraped together the last bits of his personal savings for a few basic things. The first is a haphazard array of materials marketed as a wheelchair—little more than a steel frame with leather stretched across it for the backrest and seat. Secondly, he's acquired a ticket to Ward 12, which is the city furthest from the center of Skaia. Third and finally, he's paid for the ticket of a certain Dave Strider.

Not that it's helped at all. Dave hasn't spoken to him since their initial discussion in the Ward 1 prison. And, certainly, Karkat doesn't blame him for that. Hell, he wouldn't speak to himself if he was in Dave's position.

Still, it's made for a pretty shitty ride. Six. It's coming up on six days of complete silence from the other side of the curtain. The only signs of life happen to be the squeaking of the door as it opens and closes from time to time and the rattling of luggage in the compartment over the bed. The atmosphere is uneasy at its best and, at its worst, downright hostile.

And, on the other side of the curtain, the mood is a solid, stagnant sense of disgust tinged with hints of betrayal. After all, he, Dave Strider, had done everything he could think of to try and get along with the bastard he happens to be sharing a cabin with. He made his best efforts to be courteous and respectful; and, in return, he got a metaphorical slap in the face. Why, then, should he care about it? What is there to care about? Some newly-bankrupt brat with what might just be the most vile temperament he's ever had the misfortune of encountering?

Dave sighs. He stares at the flickering light mounted on the bottom of the oak wood luggage compartment above him. Six days. It's been six days. Only three more left.

"The food carts will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you for riding with Skaia Railways."

A slight burst of muffled noise from Karkat's side of the room precedes the intrusion of an unwelcome voice. "Do they have anything worthwhile on the carts or..."

"Probably not for you," Dave grumbles. "You'd want some sort of fuckin' fancy meal or whatever. They've got self-serve salad and meat bars."

"Oh." A metallic clang. "Hey... Can I maybe talk to you for a second? Like, I get that you probably hate me and you're totally entitled to that opinion, but..."

"Yeah. Whatever." Dave shrugs indifferently. He lights himself a cigarette and inhales for a few seconds. Then, he blows forth a thick cloud of smoke. He watches as it hangs above him, slowly drifting and dissipating until it's little more than thin, occasional wisps. He lets his eyes wander over to Karkat.

By now, he's managed to position himself near the doorway. He holds the curtain open with one hand and grips the wheel of his chair with the other. "Okay, so... I guess I should apologize for all the shit that happened a few days ago."

"You guess?" Dave mutters, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. I hope it's a little fuckin' more than a guess."

"Well... Yeah..." Karkat frowns. His gaze travels downwards, eventually locking onto a nonspecific point on the hardwood floor. "So... Yeah. I'm a fucking asshole. I know. I'm the epitome of conceited, cocky fuck-ups and I truly, sincerely apologize. I shouldn't have gotten as fucking drunk as I did and I shouldn't have said the shit that I let fly out of my trash-flinging maw."

"Mhm."

"And... Well..." Karkat frowns as the train slows to a stop. He slides back a few inches and lets forth an irritated sigh.

"Arriving in Ward 4. We will remain in the station for an hour to allow guests to depart and to welcome new guests. Thank you for choosing Skaia Railways," the conductor's voice interrupts Karkat's response. It seems less energetic than before.

Presumably, this is the night shift conductor. The daytime conductor is no doubt asleep...

"The point I'm trying to make here is that I have no fucking idea what to expect in Ward 12 and I know exactly one other shitstain. And that would be you. So, maybe we could work out some deal where I work for you to pay you back for the pay that my drunk ass got taken away?" Ending this with a nervous exhale, Karkat looks up, towards Dave. His fists are clenched and one rests atop each knee. A quiet, shallow huff of defeat escapes him. "I've got nowhere else to go. And fuck knows I don't have any propitious qualities..."

Dave, by this point, has let his gaze fall on Karkat. As of now, he has two options. He can let the shitty slug of wholly justifiable grudges win—ignore Karkat, go back to sleep, and dump him in the nearest alleyway he can find in Ward 12. Or, he can do what he can only assume is the generally accepted "right" thing and accept his offer. Neither of these have anything to do with forgiving him, though. And, for some reason, Dave finds himself leaning towards the latter. He mulls it over for a few seconds before nodding. "Yeah. Cool. Now, I want to fuckin' go to sleep."

Karkat's shock is apparent. Still, he manages a quiet huff of agreement before backing up and disappearing behind the curtain once more.

 

* * *

 

For Dave, the next morning begins with the sound of the people in the cabin to their left fighting.

Something about leaving clothes on the floor. It's petty, asinine bullshit. Paltry, aggressive banter that's turned into something nasty.

He checks his watch and frowns.  _It's too fuckin' early for this_ , he thinks as he rams his elbow against the wall behind him.

The fighting stops. Then, as if driven by divine intervention, the adjoining cabin falls silent.

"Because it is Sunday, all food carts are closed," the conductor announces. "Select chefs will be delivering meals to cabins. If you enjoy this luxury, we recommend that you upgrade your next trip to Golden Class. Thank you for choosing Skaia Railways."

Dave sighs.  _Sunday._

Back home, people are probably doing one of two things. There're the people who go to Ceremonies and the people who spend Sundays enjoying the obligatory day off of work. If he were to classify himself, Dave would say that he falls squarely in the second of these choices. In fact, most of his friends do. The only friend he knows of who regularly goes to Ceremonies is John. And, for the most part, he goes because the place pays him to play the organ. It's a pretty shitty sum of money—perhaps a few steps above pocket change—but it's something. And "something" is clearly better than nothing.

A knock on the door interrupts Dave's thoughts. He springs into action and slides open the wooden portal before taking the delivered meals. In this instance, they're both fairly standard pancakes.

If he recalls correctly, this is what they served when he first rode the train  _to_ Ward 1. They were pretty average then and, thus, Dave assumes they'll be pretty average now.

He sets his own plate on his bed before nudging open the curtain to deliver Karkat his share. (To be quite honest, if it weren't for the fact that he has little interest in eating both plates and just so happens to loathe throwing food out, Dave would've opted to just discard the second meal.) "Wake up, jackass." He pushes aside the wheelchair and kicks the metal sheet which prevents passengers from storing anything under the bed.

The resultant commotion does its job. A loud "shit" escapes Karkat as he pushes himself into a sitting position. He frowns and, after a few moments, seems to register his surroundings. His gaze settles on Dave. "Oh... Um..."

"I didn't get it for you, jackass," Dave interjects. "It's Sunday. They delivered and said some spiel about upgrading to first class or something."

Oddly enough, this garners a brief look of disappointment from Karkat. He hides it quickly, however, as he takes the plate and prods at the pancakes. "Oh. Okay. Yeah. That makes a whole lot more sense..." he mutters. "Are these any good?"

Dave shrugs. "Had 'em on the way to your shitty Ward. They're average."

By the time this explanation is finished, Karkat seems to have overcome his initial hesitancy. He's allowed himself to disregard the fork and knife and is currently rolling the topmost pancake into a sort of roll, which he then proceeds to eat like a hot dog or some other casual food that  _isn't_ covered in syrup.

"Fuckin' disgusting. I thought people in Ward 1 were supposed to know their manners," Dave grumbles. He turns and is preparing to let the curtain drop back into place when Karkat offers a reply.

"I haven't eaten for, like, five days. Six? Give me a fucking break." His tone is surprisingly casual and his facial expression remains the same.

Dave, however, freezes. He turns around to face Karkat and eyes him over. "You... I thought you were getting something?"

"I tried the first day and it's a fucking huge hassle to get down there."

Despite Karkat's nonchalant shrug, Dave feels a creeping sense of guilt. "Sorry, dude."

"Nah. I packed extra shit in my bags. Kind of expected it." Another shrug.

Dave sighs. He shoves his hands into his pockets and forces himself to look out the window. "Still... I mean... You didn't say anything."

"Didn't need to." By now, Karkat's moved on, and is in the process of devouring the third pancake. "I can handle myself. I am a certified, superlative adult... Some of the time, at least..."

 _No. This isn't part of the plan. There's no room for superflurous shit like romantic attraction in Ward 12..._ Dave shrugs. "Yeah. Well. Great for you. I'm... I've got my own breakfast to eat. So... Later, i guess." With this said, he lets the curtain drop back into place. He retreats to his bed and begins shoveling his own meal into his mouth.

How is it that, even after the bastard's so royally pissed him off, he can't help but remain all but enamored with him. Him and his shitty, awful personality and silver eyes that shine like mercury...

_Oh. Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i promise you this is so totally related very related](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mh5LY4Mz15o)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (if you just clicked that and ended up watching a history of japan i'm sorry but if it's not "uwu" the link is probably useless)


	8. Stroll through the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3hnNFlPhe0)  
>  I'm probably going to start cheating and using not-Hisaishi songs at some point

"Now arriving in Ward 12. Thank you for riding with Skaia Railways. We hope you enjoyed your journey."

The thick smoke hangs in the air like a massive storm cloud. It twists in the wind and filters the sunlight until the entire Ward is in an odd film of shadow. Sure, the sun still hangs in the sky, but it's notably dulled; nothing like it was back in Ward 1. The sounds of industry hum constantly. Machinery clangs. Engines and motors pop and groan. Metal clashes against metal.

Breathe in. The air has a taste—a sort of consistency as it goes down the back of the throat—and it's not all that dissimilar from sand or dirt.

From the tiny train station, rows of run-down housing are visible. Massive, rusting, corrugated iron panels form walls and rotting, reclaimed lumber suffice as roofs. Narrow, muddy cobblestone alleys stretch out in all directions. And, all along these pathways, there's no shortage of signs of life. Small carts selling questionable food items and newspaper vendors dot the streets. Hand-powered radios are set atop scattered stools and operated by weary-looking people in exchange for a few cents. Tents sporadically populate alleyways and old, unfilled potholes.

The further from the train station you wander, the stronger the scent becomes. It's an odd mixture of alcohol, oil, mildew, mold, and burning fuels.

And, as he nears this distinctive scent, Dave Strider inhales deeply. A wide, genuine smile—something rare for a Strider to ever show in public—spreads across his face.

_Nothing's changed. It never does._

Behind him, however, Karkat is far more hesitant to dive into what is, to him, a completely new world. He stays a few feet behind and does his best to stay out of the way.

Unlike some of the other buildings, Dave and Rose's home is a permanent structure; at the very least, it was intended to be one. Gaps filled with some sort of clay checker the stone façade. A massive iron bar is secured against the side of the building, and it seems to be holding it up. In fact, upon closer inspection, there's a slight tilt to the structure. Most of the windows are gone and, where there are windows, they're cracked or covered with wooden boards.

Inside, the building reeks of tobacco smoke with a lingering hint of sewage.

"So you weren't lying when you said you'd be returning?" says a woman with golden blonde hair and facial features similar to Dave's.

Dave offers a nonchalant shrug. "Stuff it, Lalonde," he affectionately shoots back. "Anything new happening around town?"

"The tricycle factory a few blocks down caught on fire again."

"It always does, Rose. Anything that's actually interesting?"

"Nope." At this point, Rose's odd, pink gaze falls upon Karkat. She frowns. "And I'm assuming that this is Karkat?"

"Yeah," Dave calls back. By now, he's walked the short distance required to reach the back of the living room. He picks at some of the peeling wallpaper. "He cut a deal with me. He'll work here until he pays off the money that got taken back by his jackass father."

Rose nods. "That makes sense. The old office has a bed in it."

"Yeah, got it," responds Dave. He shrugs and turns towards a door to the east of the entrance. After a few moments of fiddling with the handle, he rams his shoulder against it. It swings open. "There you go. Your room."

Karkat inches forwards and peeks inside.

It's not much. It's a single bed, a coat hanger, and a bedside table with an alarm clock set atop its rusting metal surface. A door to the south leads to the bathroom.

"Yeah. Big fuckin' downgrade from Ward 1, ain't it?" Dave snickers. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leans casually against the doorframe. "Lucky you, though. The guest bedroom's down here. Rose and I have our rooms upstairs. Rose on the second floor. Me on the third floor."

"I recently restocked our supply of mousetraps. If you need any, Karkat, there should be some in the bedside drawer," Rose interjects.

Without really thinking much about it, Dave pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and prepares to light one.

"David Strider," a stern voice cuts in.

Shocked, Dave fumbles with the lighter. He pulls the cigarette from its place between his lips and crams it into his pocket. "Yeah. Sorry, Rose." A deep breath in, a long sigh out. He briefly glances towards Karkat before letting his gaze lock on the rusty steel lighter in his hands. "The shop is next door. The entrance for us is on the second floor. You can just use the front door. Outside and to the right."

 

* * *

 

Day one of... perhaps forever.

Upon waking, Karkat finds a tattered, oil-stained grey suit at the foot of his bed. A platter with two thin slices of toast and some rotten-smelling butter is set atop his nightstand. Looking through the window mounted halfway down the length of the wall in front of him, he can make out streaks of rain working their way down the cracked glass.

It's not like he has any other options...

 

* * *

 

The ringing of the entry bells tied above the door to the shop attract Dave Strider's attention. As per usual, he prepares himself. He forces a cordial smile onto his face and shoves the scrap metal he's fiddling with into a compartment under the countertop of the front desk. "Welcome to Clockwork Repairs, my name is Dave Strider can I..." Finally, his mind puts together the images in front of him. He lets forth a quiet huff and tries his best to ignore the heat that rises to his cheeks. "Oh... You're... Up..."

"Yeah." Karkat frowns. He rubs his palms against the fabric of the pants over his knees, though he doesn't seem to realize that he's doing so. "So... Is there anything... I don't know. You have anything for me to do?"

Dave pauses. He runs through his mind, thinking of the tasks available to him. Seeing as sending Karkat upstairs would be impractical, he can't exactly ask him to repair any of the current cases. Desk duty is already taken... "Not really," he shrugs. He pulls the scrap metal out from where he'd hidden it and resumes his tinkering. "Stick around in case anything happens, but I doubt it will."

After a moment's pause, Karkat offers a small nod. He wheels himself forwards and stops at an open spot behind the desk. The air between him and Dave is still heavy, and he positions himself so that his back faces the blond and he faces a shelf of intriguing-looking clocks. The faces are made of clear glass and the gears behind them are visible. "Where'd you get these?"

"Hm?" Dave turns to face Karkat for a moment before quickly facing the front of the shop. There's a definite, almost overwhelming sense of pride in his words, "I made those myself. Completely custom designs." Here, though, the pride tapers off; and his voice takes on a more disheartened tone. "They've been there for years. And there's more upstairs. I stopped making them, though, since people never buy them."

"They're pretty cheap for handmades..."

"Yeah. And not a single one has ever fuckin' sold anyhow," Dave mutters. He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair, and falls into a state of dejected silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i don't update for the next few days blame college and that paper i'm supposed to be writing but instead i'm doing this


	9. London 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm cheating this is from professor layton  
> it's by tomohito nishiura  
> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gusmpt5DTlk)

"Hey. Asshole. Talking to you."

Karkat looks up. His gaze settles upon Dave. "Yeah?"

"You've been eating the breakfast Rose is setting out for you, right?" He quirks his brow and looks away from the grandfather clock that he happens to be repairing.

Karkat, in return, frowns. "Yeah. I guess."

"You're one self-destructive fucker, ain't ya?" The gears inside turn as Dave winds the clock. Something deep inside of it whines before the clocks inner workings come to a grinding, sudden halt. "Didn't eat on the train and you're not eating here..."

"It's different," Karkat admits.

Dave nods. He pulls a long metal rod from his pocket and uses it to gently poke around within the mechanisms of the clock. "Yeah. I can imagine. Still need to fuckin' eat, though."

A long sigh. The clock lets forth another low, rumbling whine as Dave prods the rod further into the machinery.

Karkat responds with a nervous huff. He leans forward, resting his elbows against his knees. "You have any sort of gloves or something? Like... Leather grips or whatever?"

"Hm?" Dave turns his head so that his profile is visible. "Oh. Yeah. Scissors are in the counter drawer. Some old leather gloves'll be in there, too. Snip off the fingers of you don't want them." Having said this, he returns to his work.

Karkat, meanwhile, follows the advice. He pulls a pair of plain black gloves from the drawer as well as some scissors, which he predictably uses to lop off the fingers. When he puts them on, they fit perfectly. As he's closing the drawer, however, he notices something—a small golden pocket watch with a flourishing "S" etched on its cover. Its silver chain is tarnished and tangled. "You repair watches?"

"Hm?" A moment of thought marked by a small stretch of silence. Then, realization dawns upon Dave. "Oh. Nah. Rose does. I'm the clock guy. According to her, I'm too aggressive to fix watches."

"Really?" Karkat can't help but smirk at the comment.

"Yeah. I tried once and ended up accidentally popping out the entire working part of the watch." Here, Dave pulls from his pocket the bottom half of an empty pocket watch case. Inside, someone has arranged various gears and bits of metal into the shape of a large eight-toothed gear. "Looked pretty cool, though. A friend of mine took it and made this out of it."

"So there are more people here than just you and Rose?"

A small smile spreads across Dave's face. He stifles a laugh. "Duh. We're just the only ones who run this shop."

"So... I'd like to apologize... Again..."

"Did you do something else?"

"No," Karkat sighs. "It's just... I don't know. I really fucked things up."

"Well, yeah. Totally. Completely. I can totally get on board with that statement," Dave shoots back without even turning around.

"Okay. Well... You didn't have to put it so bluntly..." Karkat pauses. He lifts himself up a few inches by pushing against the wheels and repositions himself.

"Yeah. Whatever. You're fine. No point holding onto a grudge. It's pretty bad for productivity."

For some reason, a weight that had been resting on Karkat's shoulders lifts. He breathes a sigh of involuntary relief. "Great. So... What the fuck happens at this place, anyhow? Seems like a fuckton of nothing."

"For the most part, yeah," admits Dave.

"So, then, how do you make money?"

"We don't."

"Oh."

Another stretch of silence. For some reason, though, it's not as intimidating. In fact, it's actually quite cordial.

"Rose says you've been having problems with the way we setup the room. At least, that's what she assumes. Fuckin' know-it-all. If you need to get rid of any furniture, just toss it. Nothing's worth anything around here." For the briefest of moments, Dave freezes. He leans in closer to inspect his work before descending from the stepladder and walking past Karkat. He rummages through the drawers built into the space beneath the stairwell to the second floor. "If you want, I could try and rebuild whatever the fuck those things were that you had back in Ward 1. Not sure if I could with parts from here, but I could attempt it."

"You'd do that?"

Dave shrugs. "Not like there's much else to do around here." From the drawers, he picks out bits and pieces. Cogs of various sizes and shapes and metal bits go into his pocket. "You holding up decent enough? It's pretty fuckin' different around here, ain't it?"

"Yeah..." Karkat falls silent. He watches Dave work, wondering how he could possibly know what he's doing at the rate he's going.

It seems that Dave puts pieces in at the same pace at which he's taking parts out. He drops these unused parts on the ground haphazardly and works his way around the clock's mechanisms until he lets forth a quiet hum of satisfaction. "Well, that's it." He steps down from the ladder, seemingly unaware of the fact that he steps directly on the metal pieces he's discarded. "You want to see something cool?"

"I'm not sure if I trust you on that level yet..." Karkat mutters offhandedly.

"No, I mean..." Dave trots back to the drawers beneath the stairs. He pulls forth an odd array of magnets and winds the crank on the device. The metal pieces scattered across the floor spring to a central magnetic sphere. "Scrap metal. We get a lot of it around here, so..." He shrugs. On the far western wall, just beneath the tallest part of the winding stairs, there's some sort of metal furnace. A sizable device with a chute at one end and a nozzle near the base.

"That makes sense. How is that cool, though? Sounds to me like you're a fucking dork."

"Hmph. Well, whatever." With the utmost care, Dave positions the device so that the accumulated scrap is in perfect alignment with the chute. He pulls the trigger.

The pieces clang down the metal pathway into some unseen collection container. A vivid light shines briefly through some of the openings in the machine and, after a moment, Dave kneels next to the nozzle. He pulls a baking tray from nearby and lets the molten metal flow until it's at the desired thickness. Then, he cuts the supply off.

"Oh. Wow. And the sun is bright. Was that some sort of mind-blowing demonstration of everyday bullshit?"

"Eh. Pretty much." Dave pauses. He retrieves from a nearby faucet some cold water and carefully distributes it over the metal sheet he's created. "Maybe tomorrow I'll try and meet up with some friends. You're welcome to tag along." With this much said, he tosses the bucket he'd used back into the sink. He offers a brief wave and, after shoving his hands into his pockets, disappears up the stairs to whatever the hell was on the second floor.

(According to Rose, it's just storage and extra workspace. Certainly, she had no reason to lie about that. It  _would_ , after all, logically be her space. Dave has the first floor, after all; so, Rose must have the second...)


	10. Kodamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back to joe hisaishi  
> [uwu](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xusszp_joe-hisaishi-kodamas_music)

Around noon, bells ring all across Ward 12. Huge, heavy metal doors swing open. Smoke and dust from production flies out from these opened doorways and, both below and sometimes _in_ this haze, there come droves of workers. They disperse across town, chattering excitedly with one another, and it seems that everyone knows each other—people from factories across town from one another meet and converse. Formerly sparse streets come to life. Voices melt together. Conversations blur.

To Karkat Vantas, it's beyond anything he's ever experienced. Sure, he went to some big parties back in Ward 1; but, they never reached this scale. There was never this level of comradery. And, as he nears the café table Dave seems to be aiming for, this sense of closeness shoots through the roof. It's a strange feeling—it's not exactly bad. It's just... different.

Dave, however, has done this his entire life. He greets people at the table as old friends (which isn't surprising, seeing as that  _is_ what they are to him).

There is, of course, Rose. But, aside from her, there are others.

Karkat notes each person as Dave shoots off the names.

John. A short, somewhat stout man with eyes the color of the sky. Messy black hair, glasses, naturally tan skin.

Jade. A taller, female version of John. The biggest difference between the two (at a glance) is her long hair.

Sollux. Tall, thin, fairly intimidating. Slicked back black hair and medium—though edging on the darker side of—brown skin. Like Dave, he hides his eyes behind tinted glasses. When he smirks, it's obvious that his canines are somewhat unnervingly sharp.

Of all of them, the first to speak is the last to be introduced; and, as it turns out, Sollux has a notable lisp. Not that he pays much attention to it. "New guy's kind of cute," he mutters, nodding towards Karkat.

"Isn't it a little early to be making any sort of calls?" John joins in. He glances at Karkat and offers a wide, toothy grin. "Don't mind him." He extends his hand towards Karkat. "I'm guessing you know everyone's name since you just let Dave run his giant mouth."

"Yeah," Karkat replies hesitantly. After rubbing some of the dirt on his hands onto the knees of his pants, he reciprocates the handshake.

"All these assholes work at factories," Dave interjects. "To be fair, I've got a pretty fuckin' rad job. Most local business shut down ages ago. The Striders, though? We've got a reputation for quality."

"Yeah," John snickers, "Quality bullshit."

Dave shrugs. He straddles one of the somewhat rickety-looking wooden chairs and folds his arms across the top of its backrest. "Whatever," he mentions offhandedly.

"So Dave says you're from Ward 1?" Jade inquires.

Karkat nods. He edges a bit closer to the table. "Yeah. I... Um... I guess you could say I grew up there. It's nothing special. A bunch of fucking assholes with too much money and too much free time."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's not all they build it up to be." A small shrug.

"Tell me about it," Dave snickers. "I'd order you a drink, but I still reckon you'd best be on probation for now."

Karkat nods. He does his best to ignore the heat that rises to his cheeks. "Yeah. Probably."

And, so, Dave orders a round of drinks.

Karkat, however, opts for some juice. And he sips on this juice for the remainer of the social affair.

As a whole, it's nothing like the get togethers in Ward 1. It's more relaxed. Casual. It feels as if it's actually a friend group talking rather than some underhanded business transaction. And, to be honest, Karkat loves it. In fact, time started to fly by. Soon enough, the bells across the city begin to toll once more...

 

* * *

 

Dave Strider wakes to the sounds of thunder. Rain hammers against the roof. Water droplets slip through cracks in the walls and pool atop the scuffed, worn out hardwood floor.

"We advise all residents to stay indoors," crackles the radio that he keeps in the corner. "The storm should pass within a few hours."

Sighing, Dave lights a lantern and wanders downstairs. He ensures the boards over the widows are holding up and is turning to go back upstairs when he spots Karkat in the living room.

By this point, the former Ward 1 resident's wardrobe has been whittled down to some tattered old work pants and a faded cream undershirt. He sits in the corner, his arms folded across his chest, and only seems to move when the light of the lantern falls upon him. He does what Dave is beginning to consider a peculiar habit of his. He rubs his hands against his pants knees.

"The hell're you doing out here so soon?" Dave mutters, still a bit groggy from the unexpected awakening.

Karkat, in return, frowns. "It's fucking loud and rain started coming through the crack in the window." He shrugs and pushes against his knees to straighten his back. "I also just... I don't fucking like storms, alright? It's just one of those inexplicable things about me. Never have liked them and I doubt I ever will."

"Makes sense to me." Dave adjusts the flame of the lantern so that it isn't quite as high. "You want me to stay down here?"

"If it's not a massive inconvenience, I sure as fuck wouldn't mind." With that much said, Karkat wheels himself a bit closer to the sofa under the stairwell.

Dave, too, follows suit. He sprawls out, sets aside the lantern, and folds his arms behind his head to make a pillow. "Nah. I'm pretty much awake now. Radio said it should be over in a few hours. You got storms up in Ward 1, though, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but they weren't as bad. And, generally, our houses didn't leak like a fucking sinking ship." He says this with what seem to be a good natured smile. It's a thin, nervous, and oddly attractive sort of expression. It's there, and, yet, it's not.

"Makes sense." Dave shrugs. He yawns. "You know, the room you're in used to be mine. Bro used to sleep upstairs."

"Your brother?" Karkat asks.

"Real jackass, but yeah."

Karkat opens his mouth to speak yet, before noise can come out, he winces. "Shit."

"You doing okay over there?" Dave asks, opening one eye a bit.

"Fine," Karkat sighs. He leans forward and lifts himself a few inches off of the seat before settling down again.

"Hm." A slow nod. Dave closes his eye and settles back onto the sofa. "What was that for?"

"Some shitty health thing. Something about weight distribution. I don't know."

"Oh. So. You miss those... What? Braces?"

"I hated them." A quiet sigh punctuates this statement. "I wore them because my dad wanted me to. Kind of happy he's gone, though. I don't have to deal with this shit..." He shrugs. "Look, you seem to be tired. I'll shut up and let you sleep."

"Nah," another yawn. Dave feels himself slipping into the world of sleep. "I'm... Fine..." He shrugs. Despite what he's said, he's asleep within a matter of minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, and pointing out any typos I've made are very much appreciated.


	11. The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07bVnI7Ra30)

Dave Strider finds himself outside of the store. He leans against the faux Corinthian pillars and watches as the tip of his cigarette begins to draw closer to his lips. He watches as snow falls from the sky, coating the entire Ward in a blanket of light grey polluted snow. He halfheartedly observes the construction crew across the street as they make minor repairs to an old, historic former bank that has since served as a shitty housing complex.

"Can I have a smoke?"

Dave frowns. The voice is familiar but, for some reason, he can't quite place it until he turns to see its source. He shrugs and pulls a slightly bent cigarette from the pack and hands it to Karkat. "Need a match?" he mutters.

"Yeah."

A box of matches passes between the two.

Dave's fingers brush briefly against the worn out leather of the gloves Karkat always wears. He takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly, pushing forth from his nostrils a cloud of smoke. He frowns and, once Karkat has returned it to him, stares at the faded, illegible logo on the carton. "I didn't think you'd be the smoking type. Most of the Ward 1 folks are too stuffy for that." Another, smaller haze of toxic smoke drifts from his nostrils as he slips off his tinted glasses and clips them to his suit jacket's breast pocket.

"Mm," Karkat shrugs. "They're awful for you, too." He reaches up and pinches the cigarette between his left thumb and forefinger. He flicks away some of the smoldering tip with his middle finger.

Dave, in return, smirks. "Never seen anyone do it that way before."

Again, Karkat shrugs. He returns the cigarette to his mouth. "Way back whenever, I was in rougher shape." His voice is casual—as if he's talking about something mundane. And, in a sense, Dave supposes that, to him, it is something of little consequence or note. "Took a while to get feeling and motion back in some places," as if to demonstrate, he repeats the action. "Left arm came first, but mainly these two."

"Oh."

"No big deal," Karkat grunts, pressing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply. After a few seconds, he exhales. "Works now, so I don't really think about it. Don't really give a fuck about it, either."

"So it's habit?"

"Kind of. My left hand's weaker than my right. Most of the other fingers are temperamental fucks that only really operate as a cohesive unit when they feel like it. So, I guess it's sort of just necessity but..." He runs his fingers through his messy black hair. "Why?"

"I dunno," Dave admits. "You just popped up and asked for a smoke, so I figured I might as well make some small talk."

"Yeah? Well I'm really not the most interesting guy to talk to. Actually, I'm pretty fucking boring." Karkat pauses. He winces slightly and presses his hand against his right leg. "As much as I hate to say it, seeing as it'll probably blow your already over-inflated head up even fucking more, your life is probably more thrilling."

"Not so sure about that..."

"I am." Karkat's leg tenses. He lets forth a sharp gasp. "Just admit it, asshole. You've got way more going for you than I do. The most fucking interesting part of my entire existence on this planet was getting cut out of my family." He repositions himself and, after a few moments, the muscles seem to relax. At the very least, the fabric of his trousers isn't moving as much. "So, why'd you let me work with you? I mean... If I were you, I would've dumped my ass in the first junkyard I could find."

Dave, in return, snickers. "I was going to, but I figured you could help with business."

Karkat nods. He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and crushes the smoldering remains against the palm of his leather gloves. "What business?"

"Yeah," admits Dave, a sheepish smile working its way onto his face, "It's also kind of boring with just me and Rose. And you are... kinda... I don't know. You're pretty cute. I mean... I like your face."

"Thanks?" Karkat mutters. "I guess you're not all that bad, either... You're still a jackass, though, so..."

With a great deal of effort, Dave pushes back his urge to grin. "I... Yeah..." He rubs the back of his neck.

Karkat, meanwhile, repeats the cycle from before. He leans the weight of his upper body against against his shaking knee and grits his teeth.

"Is that... normal? I mean... I thought that..."

"I'm not doing it. At least, I'm not making a conscious effort to," Karkat shrugs. He eases the pressure as the movement calms. "No one knows what the fuck it is. Probably something too complicated and technical for me to give a shit about."

"Mhmm." A nervous pause.

Somewhere in the distance, a single gunshot rings out. Shortly thereafter, the sound of police sirens pierces through the air. As if his interests had been newly reinvigorated by the earlier conversation, he watches as he flexes the muscles of his left hand. When he speaks, it's quiet and distant. As far as Dave can tell, he's mostly speaking to himself. "Doesn't get any worse. At least it shouldn't. The pompous fuckwits at the hospital said it was a pretty stable thing once it worked itself out..." He looks up, his silver eyes sweeping across the snowy landscape before he folds his arms across his chest and continues, louder, "So, what? Are you selling this to the tabloids?"

"Hm? Nah. No point in doing that,"

"Really?"

Dave shoves his hands into his pockets and nods, watching absentmindedly as some of the ash on the end of his cigarette falls to the ground. "I like how it is. There's nothing fuckin' outrageous going on and everything is pretty relaxed. It's nice. Why change it?"

Karkat, in return, shrugs. He rubs his hands together. "If that's how you feel." He coughs weakly before forcing the chair's wheels against the building snow. "I'm going inside before I get sick. You want to stay out here and catch the plague, feel free."

Dave nods. He sighs and pulls his own cigarette from his mouth before crushing it beneath the heel of his shoe. Following closely, he clears his throat and approaches Karkat from behind, though his conversational partner doesn't turn to face him. "So... Maybe... I don't know. If you maybe wanted to go out for dinner later... If you want... I mean... I don't know..." He takes a deep breath, collects his thoughts, and takes another shot. This time, it comes as a singular statement. "You. Me. Dinner tomorrow. I'll pay."

Karkat, in return, responds with a quiet huff. Still, he refuses to turn. But, there's something in his voice—a hint of that sort of sing-song touch that a voice takes on when the speaker is smiling. "Yeah. Not like I have anything better to do than go out with some self-important shitstain, right?"

Dave, too, hides his feelings. He stuffs down the rising excitement and traps it beneath an impenetrable layer of nervous disinterest. "Cool.Tomorrow actually good?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Dave nods. He turns quickly and trots off, heading up the stairs to Rose's room.

 

* * *

 

It's not as if Rose Lalonde is clueless. In fact, the reality far from that, she's been fairly confident about her half-sibling's infatuation with Karkat for quite a while.

Aside from that, she, too, seems to have a budding romance. At the very least, the strangely elegant and almost ethereal—at least when compared to the gloomy greys and brows of daily life—woman in green moving into the former bank across the street is... intriguing. According to rumors, she's moving in from Ward 1. Regardless, Rose has already made getting to know this woman a point on her list of things to do...

"Rose!" The door to her room slams open.

She's been expecting this. In fact, she's surprised it's been such a long wait. "I presume you asked Karkat on a date and he accepted?"

"Yeah..." Dave sighs. "You're no fuckin' fun. You couldn't let me think I got you once?"

"Nope." Rose smirks. "If you're here seeking advice, I don't have any."

"You... Don't?"

"Nope." Rose's smirk grows wider. To be quite honest, she's pleasantly amused by the look of open-mouthed confusion on Dave's face. "By the way, if you see the woman moving in across the street any time soon, let her know I'd like to speak to her." With  this said, she grabs her leather satchel of tools and heads through the door opposite her bedroom's, behind which lays the second story space she calls her personal workshop. "I've got orders to attend to, David. I'll speak with you at a later time."

The door closes.


	12. River Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIrU-iD7gmE)  
>  (on my ipod it's "river side" not "riverside" so)

In all honesty, it's comparatively little to what he's seen in Ward 1. It's a shitty red jacket with patches on the shoulders from where it was once caught in a minor fight. A wrinkled, sad black tie and a pair of old black pants. Still, it's all he has available. And he doesn't exactly have money to buy anything else...

"You look fine."

Dave looks up from the ground and allows his gaze to meet Karkat's. He manages an uncertain, wavering smile. "Thanks. You look nicer."

It's not a lie. Karkat's wearing one of the few formal outfits retrieved from his home and sent to him. It's a fine silk jacket with matching pants and a brilliant red tie. The cufflinks are made of silver and each bear a tiny etching of a crab. As he speaks, he tugs at his sleeves to straighten them. "Hate to be the person who shits in the punch here..."

"What?" Dave interjects, barely hiding his laughter at the commentary.

"The party pooper. The killjoy. The person who shits in the punch bowl. They're all the same."

"No one says that around here, dude."

A brief hint of a smile flashes across Karkat's face. "No one did in Ward 1, either. I just heard a story about it happening, so..." he shrugs. "The point is that it's cold and I'd rather not get sick. Circulating air through this fucking meat sack is already hard enough and coughing is bullshit. So, how far are we going?"

"Not too far." Dave shrugs. He notes Karkat's statement and files it away in the back of his mind. For the first time, he takes a moment to consider how controlled Karkat's breathing always is. This, too, he puts away in his mind for later reference. He nods towards the door and begins walking. "It's at the end of this block."

"Sounds reasonable enough."

"You like seafood?" comments Dave, slowing down to match Karkat's pace.

Karkat, in return, shrugs. "It's fine. Why? Is this a whole pun about the fucking crab?"

"Maybe."

 

* * *

 

Rose Lalonde clears her throat. She adjusts her headband and takes a deep breath and, after a few more moment of composing herself, she approaches the woman in green. She extends her hand. "I'm guessing you're the individual in charge of taking over this hovel?"

The woman turns. An odd, jade colored lipstick stands out against her dark skin, as do her light green eyes. "Hm?" She looks Rose over a few times before reciprocating the gesture. "And I'm going to assume that you're Rose."

Rose frowns. "How did you know that?"

"My name is Kanaya Maryam," she responds, articulating each word with the utmost care. "My former profession was as a tailor and one of my duties just happened to be making custom clothing for Karkat in Ward 1. He and Dave happened upon my shop the day before Karkat was expelled from the region and Dave commented that you and I would get along nicely." A serene smile spreads across her features. "I assume that you're Rose, as you have a multitude of physical traits shared between the two of you."

Despite the polite smile Rose exhibits, she makes a mental note to beat the living shit out of her half brother. "He's a bit... Eccentric. I wouldn't hold his words to much regard. In fact, I've been dispensed sounder advice by a gossip magazine."

Kanaya nods. "That seems to be a reasonable approximation of the distinctive aura exuded by Dave."

"What brings you to Ward 12, then?"

"Ward 1 is a wasteland of overindulgent swine," Kanaya responds plainly. "Aside from that, Karkat is one of my personal friends. I consider him close enough to be a brother, which means I felt obligated to come and warn him about the impending danger."

Rose frowns. "Danger?"

"His father has issued a reward for his... Well... To decapitate him would, shall I say, be quite a profitable endeavor." Here, Kanaya, too, frowns. "He is here, is he not?"

"Actually... No..." admits Rose. "He and Dave went on a date. If I recall correctly, Dave is taking him to the seafood place down the street. Quite literally, it is down the street. If you run, you'd probably catch them before they went in."

Kanaya thinks this over for a moment before offering a casual shrug. "They'll be fine. The bounty was just released two days ago. It wouldn't be out here yet."

 

* * *

 

The restaurant is fairly small. The tables are clustered together and it takes more than a few minutes to get things rearranged enough for Karkat to move through. Not that it matters; there's no one else there.

They're seated at a round table whose shape has been cut to emulate a boat wheel. Bottles with glowing crystals hang from the ceiling and sway gently in the breeze which blows through the gaps in the wooden walls. It's a quaint place, but it certainly wasn't made with anyone shorter than five feet tall in mind. At least, that's what Karkat assumes, seeing as the table is uncomfortably high for him.

Dave had offered to move to a different table, but Karkat wasn't really all that interested. So, Dave ended up moving his chair so that he was to the left of Karkat.

By this point, they've made their orders. Dave asked for his usual low-grade crab meat cakes and Karkat opted to go with a shrimp salad.

"And we absolutely will not get food poisoning from this?" Karkat whispers.

Dave, in return, snickers. "It's low grade meat. Probably some chemicals in it that aren't too great for you, but neither is living down here." He shrugs and reaches across the table to grab some of the bread. He rips it in half and swirls his portion around in the provided bow of melted butter. "You want some?"

"That's disgusting... What happened to using butter knives?"

"Why waste money on those? And you're the one who ate pancakes with your fuckin' hands."

"I hadn't eaten in six days."

"That was your fault." Dave shrugs. He rips off two more pieces of bread. One of these he passes to Karkat, the other he saves for himself. He once again swirls his piece in butter before letting forth a contented sigh. "So, I've got a question..."

"And I might have an answer," Karkat replies, eyeing his piece skeptically.

"That thing. Whatever it is. The shit you said no one knew about yesterday. You didn't do that in the braces."

"None of those are questions, jackass."

"You get what I'm saying, you puddle of piss."

After a few moments, Karkat downs his piece of bread. It's not as bad as he thought it would be. In fact, it's actually quite enjoyable. "Yeah. Fine. Well, I don't fucking know why. No one does. But Dad got them for me because of it. He said it wasn't very becoming of a future leader. Some bullshit like that." A brief pause, a flash of a guilty frown. "Give me some more of that bread."

"What about please?" Dave pouts facetiously. "Any butter?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Order received and possibly on the way. Watch it, though, don't want to get food poisoning, right?." As he grabs Karkat's piece, Dave takes another for himself. He tosses it into his mouth before continuing, "But you don't do it intentionally?"

"First of all, fuck you. In regards to the question: it's pretty fucking uncomfortable so I don't actively try to instigate it."

"So those things hurt?"

A long, drawn out sigh. "Look. We get it. I'm different. Can we talk about something else?"

"Oh." Dave frowns. He feels the heat rushing to his cheeks, though even his best efforts are unable to stop it. "Yeah... Sorry."

"Look, asshole, I'll tell you what you need to know and what I feel comfortable saying, alright? I'd say it's not you, but it is." Karkat shrugs. He downs his bread before glancing over Dave's shoulder. "Our edible sea flesh is ready."

"Edible...?" Before Dave can finish, the plates are dropped onto the table. He jumps slightly, to which Karkat seems to offer a wry grin, before distributing the plates. "Whatever. You're one strange fucker."

"Says Dave Strider."

"Says Jackass Circlejerk."

"Just eat your food before it gets cold." Karkat offers a small half-smile—something that, to Dave's frustration, is impossibly captivating.

Not that Dave will let Karkat know that. No, he's going to play it cool. He shrugs and begins consuming his meal.

And, for the next twenty or so minutes, the two eat. There's sparse conversation, but it's quite obvious that they're enjoying their meals. By the time they're finished, the check been paid and the pair is preparing to depart.

As they're leaving, however, the bartender stops them. He offers them a folded piece of paper, which Dave hesitantly accepts.

Once they're outside, they open it...

 **Wanted**  
**The head of Karkat Vantas**  
**Charged with treason  
** **$5,000,000 reward**

 _**Should the subject of this notice** _  
_**be returned alive, let it be known** _  
_**that he will be executed at a later** _  
_**date.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me i'm PROCRASTINATING™


	13. Battle Drums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://lookingforlyrics.com/catalog/Joe%20Hisaishi-Battle%20Drums,%20The/)  
>  aka "that feel when your disembodied head is worth, like, five college textbooks"

"Where the hell do you even get that much fucking money?" Dave sputters, his eyes locked on the massive bounty. The whole of Ward 12 is worth two million. How do you...?"

Karkat sighs. He folds his arms behind his head. "You kill people and take it from them."

"That's not the point, David."

Dave sighs. He looks up at Rose and rolls his eyes. "Is this another of those 'watch who you date' speeches?"

"That would be unfair. You had no plausible way of predicting this outcome," suggests Kanaya.

"But it's still relevant," points out Rose. "That's not the point, though, Dave. The point is that Karkat's head is now a verifiable millionaire by itself."

"Real fuckin' minor problem, right?"

"Shut up, jackass."

"Hey. It's not my fault your head is worth more than this entire fuckin' Ward. How pissed off is your dad to put this out?"

Karkat shrugs. To everyone's surprise, he offers a brief snicker of laughter. "Must be really fucking pissed to do this. Can't imagine he'd actually part with that much. He'd probably just take the head and kill whoever turned it in."

"Is this... somehow... amusing?" Rose frowns.

Kanaya sighs. "Apparently, it is to this dipshit."

"You're the one who told me there are plenty of fish in the sea," Dave mutters, his gaze locked on Rose. "Well, look, I caught a fish and now everyone wants to fuckin' murder the damned fish. This really is some convoluted sign from above that I'm just not marketable material."

"You're pretty cute... Hate to admit," Karkat mumbles.

"We're getting off topic," Kanaya's voice rises above the cacophony. Once she's sure she has everyone's attention, she continues, "Let's all put our heads together for five minutes and think this out. Karkat's head is the newest hot topic on the market. Does anyone have suggestions to make him blend in with the general population?"

Dave raises his hand. Rose lets forth a loud, disapproving groan of frustration as Kanaya points at him. "Carriage driver. Make him a carriage driver. He looks and acts rich enough to be one around here." A small, indifferent shrug. "And they do sit all day, so... Wouldn't be weird for him to do it, right?"

Rose, in return, frowns. "I'm surprised, David, you came up with a coherent and worthwhile response for once."

"I have good ideas sometimes," Dave huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

"Okay, but where are we going to acquire a horse?" points out Kanaya.

"We don't have to." For some strange reason, Dave reaches into his pocket and pulls forth a tiny toy horse. He winds it up and sets it on the coffee table, whereupon it proceeds to mechanically trot forwards. "I'll just make a bigger version of that."

"You... Do you just keep tiny wind-up toys in your pockets, you shit-brained bastard!?"

"Hm?" A small shrug. Dave reaches into his pockets once more and dumps out another handful of similar contraptions. "Yeah. They're great for when kids come into the shop. Otherwise they rub their dirty, shitty little hands all over everything."

"That was settled quickly." Kanaya smirks.

Karkat, however, is still confused. "Yeah, great. But I have no idea where anything is."

"But I do," Dave chimes in. "Look at us, buddy. New business partners."

After a few moments of tense silence, Karkat responds, "No. You know what? I'll go get an axe. Please, by all means, go get that massive bounty."

Naturally, Dave replies with a faux pout. "I dropped ten whole dollars on you, you ingrate."

"Yeah. And the bread was fucking lovely."

"Off topic," Kanaya interjects. "We've got it settled. Karkat will masquerade as a carriage operator and Dave will be copilot. I'll take Dave's place in the shop. Agreed?"

"Fine. Whatever. This is my punishment for being awful." With a long, drawn-out sigh, Karkat offers a slow nod of consent. "How long until that ugly-as-fuck horse is ready? And why not use a car?"

"Cars are expensive as fuck. Nah. Robot horses are what really reel in the babes," Dave winks. "Should be done in a few days."

Karkat offers another sigh in return.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, the contraption is fairly impressive. It looks vaguely like a real horse and is capable of moving his head. According to Dave's claims, its anus acts as a coin slot. When questioned about the specifics, he clarified that the horse allegedly played five different songs, including the Skaia Anthem. (Not that Karkat believes the latter. By his own estimates, it's just Dave putting shit out of his ass as he usually does.)

The carriage was supplied by Kanaya. Compared to the mechanical component, it's fairly plain. Standard black with gold embellishments. The unit, itself, seems study enough and, inside, there's enough room to seat up to four people. Certainly, it'll be popular in the more affluent areas of Ward 12.

Even so, from his perch beneath the overhang which protects the operator from the elements, Karkat is skeptical. He holds the faded leather reigns in his hands and watches warily as Dave clambers up and into the seat beside him. "You can guarantee this won't blow up in my face?"

"Not really." Dave shrugs. He offers a less-than-reassuring smile. "Look, it's better than staying inside all day, right? We've just got to get you used to it. Pull straight back to go forwards and left and right for steering."

 After a minute of hesitation, Karkat tries the suggestion. The carriages lurches forwards and he feels something catching him by the collar of his shirt. When he's pulled back into an upright position, he isn't exactly surprised to find that that "something" was Dave. "You could have warned me about that," he mutters, rubbing his neck. "Is it always going to be that annoying?"

"Yeah. That's one of the design flaws..." Dave admits.

"That's a plural. Flaw is plural. What the fuck are the other issues?"

"Nothing major. Just don't subject it to heavy vibration..."

"You're disgusting."

"No, seriously, don't get this near the club," Dave cautions. "It's pretty durable, but if you shake it, it's going to fall apart."

"Oh." Karkat nods solemnly. He takes note of the curious glances of the people they pass in the streets. "Is this such a good idea? We stick out like a sour, infected thumb."

"Don't worry about it." Dave grins, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his cigarettes. He shakes one free and lights it, striking the match against the rough leather of his shoes. "Want one?"

As if to reply, Karkat lets forth a sharp noise—an odd cross between a guttural huff and a wheeze. He frowns. "Not now."

Dave, in return, turns his cigarette so that the smoke blows away from Karkat. "You okay there?"

Another wheeze. "Yeah. Fine. Back to how I hate shitting in the fucking punch bowl, but I'd love if you could maybe put that out."

"No problem," Dave shrugs. He douses the flame at the end of his cigarette before packing it back into the package. (After all, those things are expensive.) "Pull to stop, by the way. So we only have one speed. Not that we need to go faster in this fuckin' place." By now, pride for his invention is oozing out of Dave. It's even more apparent when he flashes a wide, cocky grin. "So,  yeah, I got some friends to meet us down by the airspace. They'll be the first customers."

"And where the fuck is that?"

"I'll let you know."

Karkat sighs. He watches the reactions of the people in the street. A sense that this probably isn't the best way to blend in rises in the back of his mind; he pushes it aside.

From time to time, Dave offers directions.

Eventually, they reach the airspace. Massive rolls of the flameproof cloth used in making dirigibles lean against towering brick walls. And, above, the actual vessels dot the sky. At this point, most of them have been filled and are leaving to deliver fresh goods. Some, however, are still waiting to land.

Under Dave's direction, the carriage is led to the eastern side of the lot, where its drivers are greeted by John and Jade.

From here, they wind their way back into the claustrophobic alleys and to the apartment complex at which the pair live. For their efforts, the duo gets a few dollars from Jade and an awful joke from John.

 "See? Wasn't too bad, right?" Dave mutters.

Karkat, in return, shrugs. "Could've been worse."

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

 

* * *

 

 

It's a near-unanimous vote. The only person to vote against it is, naturally, Karkat.

The safest thing to do is to assign someone to guard the downstairs bedroom.

Rose and Kanaya both refuse, which leaves only one option...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated


	14. The Sixth Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From _Spirited Away_  
> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHOYeXezhQI)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEEERE COME THE MYSTERY SOLVING LESBIANS

"Dave certainly is... interesting..."

Rose frowns. She looks up and meets Kanaya's gaze. "I can easily say the same about Karkat."

A small smirk works its way onto Kanaya's face. "He inevitably rubs most people the wrong way, but he's a genuinely nice guy. We dated a little when we were younger, and he was one of those guys who'd got terribly out of his way to get you something that you mentioned offhandedly." She pauses, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a silver flask. After taking a considerable gulp, she continues, "He acts tough, but, in all reality, he's about as tough as paper."

"Dave's the same way, I guess," shrugs Rose. "What're you drinking?"

Kanaya tips the flask in Rose's direction. "Water. Boring, right? Using this makes it so much more interesting."

"Agreed." A brief pause. "Any particular reason for the bounty?"

"They decided that Karkat is a disgrace to the Vantas lineage. Something about him needing to be eliminated to maintain the so-called honor of their family." Kanaya snickers. "Says the man in charge of a crime syndicate."

Rose, too, offers a wry grin. "True." She clears her throat and forces the most ambiguous facial expression she can onto her features. "You're quite... attractive."

"I can say the same about you." Smirking, Kanaya folds her arms across her chest. "Dare I presume that this attraction is mutual, then?"

Having gotten a far better response than was originally anticipated, Rose relaxes. She offers what she hopes is one of those small but mysterious grins. (Knowing how late it is, though, it might have been received differently...) "I might venture to say that it is."

"Well, then, that was quick."

"Indeed."

"You seem to like romance novels."

Rose pauses. It takes her a moment to remember that she has a pile of faded books stacked in the corner nearest the entry door. "I'm quite fond of them."

"Well, then, perhaps we should visit my place some time soon. I brought with me quite a collection from Ward 1." Tucking her flask back into her pocket, Kanaya rises to her feet. "I need to be going, though, so... Good night, Rose."

"Yeah..." For a few moments, Rose's mind wanders. Just before the door closes, however, she snaps back to reality. "Oh. Yeah. See you later, right?"

"Why not?" Kanaya flashes a brilliant grin as the door closes, and that image lingers in Rose's mind...

 

 

* * *

 

"I reserve the right to remove your unwarranted ass from my room, you know."

Dave Strider frowns. He looks up from the rusty piece of metal he's been wiping off and raises his left brow. "What? That's the first thing you're saying to your new roommate?" he inquires, pouting insincerely. "Besides, we haven't even gotten through the test run. We gotta' let this at least kind of work, right?"

"Nope." Karkat shrugs. He backs up so that he's about halfway down the length of the bed against the wall and cautiously lifts himself up and onto the mattress. "I don't remember signing any sort of soul-binding contract with you, Satan." Here, he pauses. He leans his back against the wall. "You think this is actually going to work?"

"What?"

A quiet, irritable snarl. "This. This whole... clusterfuck... Whatever the hell is going on here." He gestures around himself as if to demonstrate his point. "Someone's going to notice me. They're already handing out descriptions."

"Not photos?" Dave asks.

"Are you  _trying_ to get me killed?" Karkat rolls his eyes. He turns, heaves his legs up onto the bed, and folds his arms across his chest. "They can't use those. Everyone'll be looking for the old me." His eyes close as he takes a deep breath in. Releasing the breath as a harsh sigh, he continues, "Look, there's just... I don't know. It's all a bunch of aristocratic bullshit and it'll probably end badly but..." He shakes his head. "Whatever... I guess I might as well enjoy not being dead for a while, right?"

"Sounds reasonable," Dave shrugs. "You don't believe the thing about the music, do you?"

"You mean your perverted need to make the horse's anus a functional component? Why would I?"

"Because it's fuckin' true as fuck," Dave counters with a sly grin. "I'll show you... But... Hm... Not yet. The time isn't right yet."

"Oh. Fine. And I'm going to guess the right time will be when my head's on the fucking chopping block?" Despite what he's saying, a smirk works its way onto Karkat's face. He props himself up against his elbows so that he's facing Dave. "You said you had a brother?"

"Yeah." Dave frowns. "He was a real jackass." With no other ways to occupy himself in sight, Dave sits down beside Karkat's now-empty wheelchair and begins to study it. Still, he continues the conversation. "Rose hated him. Hell, it was a pretty fuckin' great day when we got that compensation check for his dead ass... This thing is a piece of shit."

"Yeah. It is. If you're bored and desperate enough for entertainment, by all means modify it," says Karkat, waving his hand dismissively.

"Hm..." A spark of thought flashes in Dave's eyes. "First thing I'd do is add something to buffer the shock."

Figuring that Dave is in no rush to return to the conversation about his brother, Karkat follows the shift in topic. "That would be pretty neat."

"I could probably add some self defense shit, too... The seat's big enough to take a shortsword under the chair." Dave looks up and, upon noticing Karkat's confusion, turns the chair so that a viewer on the bed will see the profile. Starting just behind the lowest bar of the backrest, he draws a straight line with his index finger. The end extends about six inches past the bottom of the seat. "Take a sword, put it on its edge, and mount it right about here."

Still, there doesn't seem to be any sort of recognition on Karkat's face. In fact, it seems that he's even more confused.

Dave, in return, sighs. He pulls from his pocket a crumpled scrap of paper and a pencil. He repeats his idea; this time, he draws it out as he goes. "Think 'bout it like balancing a sword on its edge. Take the edge, put it against the bottom of the frame, and weld it there." He draws this much, glancing at Karkat once he's done. Then, having deemed that there is enough understanding between them, he presses onward. "The handle goes out past the end. It'll probably just look like a manufacturing error or something. Pretty sure no one would bother you about it. And the sheathe would be pretty easy." This, too, he sketches. "Take a regular sheathe, add a hook to the end to secure the sword when you're not kicking some ass and you're good to go."

Karkat nods slowly. "That's the most fucking bullshit idea I've ever heard... But I kind of like it..."

"On very rare occasions, Striders have fairly decent ideas," announces an obviously proud Dave. "If I make the sword handle right, it'll just look like the brakes I can probably throw on the other side."

"Brakes would be pretty fucking great."

"Rare occasions," Dave repeats. "Anything else on the request list?"

"No. But where the hell are you going to get the material for all this?"

Here, Dave frowns. He rubs the back of his neck. "Okay, well... There's this iron and steel place a few blocks down. I have a buddy who works there. His name's Gamzee. He's high pretty much all the time, but he's great at smuggling stuff out of places, so..."

"You're going to fucking steal it!?" Karkat snaps.

Dave, by instinct, puts his hand over Karkat's mouth. "Shhh. Shut up, jackass. The steel's just going to make some guns for the hunting Wards. And they've already got enough of those." He sighs, withdraws his hand, and wipes his palm on the front of his shirt. "Besides, it's gonna' be fuckin' rad."

"Do you even know how to work with steel, you fucking twit?"

"Nope." Dave grins. "But, Jade does."

Karkat, after a few moments of silence, nods. "Okay. Fine. If you get caught, I fucking told you so." He lets himself drop back onto the pillows and pulls the blankets up. "i'm going to bed. Good night."

"G'night."

 

* * *

 

Having taken Kanaya up on her offer, Rose Lalonde finds herself in a room filled with massive bookshelves and stocked with more books than she ever thought there could be in the world. "Holy shit," are the only words that she can possibly articulate.

And Kanaya, with a smug grin, nods approvingly. She chuckles. "Glad to see you enjoy it."

"Where did you get all of these?" Rose sputters.

"Some of them were already here when I moved in." Kanaya gestures to a few rows of dusty, crumbling shelving units. "That's my next project here, but it seems as if this room was sealed off from the main space." She shrugs and turns, her smile growing as she notices the spark of interest in Rose's eyes. "Someone must've known it was here, or they wouldn't have sealed it off so well. None of the people residing in the lower levels of the building had ever heard of it. It doesn't seem as if they're very interested, either."

"A lot of people around here probably aren't," admits Rose as she plucks one of the old books from its place. The shelf creaks ominously, though Rose and Kanaya both ignore this. In fact, rather than worry about the noise, Rose starts to thumb through the thin, faded pages. "I always thought this was just a bank."

"Apparently not."

Rose nods. She flips to the back of the book and finds a worn-out, yellowed card. She scans through the names and dates. The oldest checkout date is set one hundred and fifty years prior and attributed to someone whose name was unfortunately shortened to "A. Hussie." Other names were of the more standard variety: A. Serket, S. Casey, T. Dolorosa, K. Shotaro, J. English. There's nothing interesting about them. Nothing particular strange. If anything, the strange part is that the last checkout date is listed as being only twelve years ago. "These houses have been here for at least twenty years," Rose muses. "This is... odd..."

Kanaya, too, has begun to browse through the array of dust-covered books. She plucks one from the shelf and flips it to the back, pulling forth the library card. "Were they here bout forty years ago?" she calls.

"Possibly. Probably not, though." After replacing the book, Rose finds another. She immediately skips to the card in the back. This one, however, has another stamp on it—Ward 12, East 4. "Are these all... from different places?"

"This one's in... some language..." A few moments of silence precede a botched attempt at reading the text. "Gl'bgolyb? Does that make any sort of sense to you, Rose?"

"Not at all." Once again, Rose puts the book she's plucked from the shelf back where she had originally found it. She turns towards Kanaya with a mischievous grin. "It seems like we've found something exceedingly interesting."

"I second that sentiment," Kanaya responds with a definite edge of fascination in her voice. "At the very least, this is worth looking into."

"Definitely."

"Partners in research, then?" Kanaya grins and approaches Rose, extending her hand.

And Rose eagerly reciprocates the gesture. "Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still  
> [P R O C R A S T I N A T I N G ! ! !]


	15. The Procession of Celestial Beings I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2AyNVK5_vE) and if you're so inclined I'd recommend [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4ASDIs6JD8) for the Rosemary segment.

"Hey. Shit-for-brains!" Karkat exclaims, holding onto the edge of the bench seat as Dave's haphazard attempt to board the carriage shifts the entire rig's weight. "I thought the goal was for me to _not_ die."

Dave, in return, simply shrugs. He offers a grin so unnervingly innocent that it's almost believable, though he breaks the illusion when he lowers his tinted glasses to wink. "Yeah. Whatever," he mutters, settling into his spot. "You talk in your sleep."

Karkat pulls on the reins. The mechanical horse lurches forward, taking the carriage and its two navigators with it. "I do not."

"Yeah, ya' do. You sure fuckin' do." The grin on Dave's face widens and takes on an oddly impish look. It's the sort of smile that people give when they know they're getting under your skin. But, at the same time, it's not threatening; it's obvious that he's not doing it to be mean. "You were going on about how hot I was. Like. 'Damn, that Dave Strider? He's a fine, fine piece of ass.'"

"You're definitely an ass," Karkat sighs. "That much is perfectly and irrefutably factual."

"Really, though, you mentioned something about Kankri."

"New idea," Karkat interjects, "You ask about me all the time..." He pulls the carriage to a stop as it reaches an intersection and checks to make sure no one is coming before continuing. "How about this: I get to ask about you?"

"Fair enough."

"Question one: What the fuck are those douchebag shades for?"

"Aesthetic," Dave announces. "They're really, incredibly, undeniably rad, my dude. They're great. If you look smarter with glasses, you look like a smart badass with shades." He snaps a few times. "Next?"

"I'm not sure about 'smart,' though you definitely have that fucking radiating jackass vibe, though." Rolling his eyes, Karkat makes his second inquiry. "Why are you so damned set on keeping my head attached to the rest of my body?"

"Because you're a pretty cool guy."

Another nod from Karkat. This time, it's slow. Slow and skeptical. He winces and rubs his left knee. "Whatever."

"You okay?"

"Shit gets stiff when you're sitting down for a majority of the day and don't have any other options."

"Makes sense." Dave frowns. He lowers his gaze to his feet.

The carriage comes to a stop as some harried foreman trots up to them. He mutters something about needing to get to the northern factory area and hands Karkat a pretty sizable wad of cash before boarding the carriage.

Again, Karkat tips to the side that's taking the most weight. This time, he lands against Dave's shoulder. "Fuck," he grumbles, pushing himself away. "Disgusting. Now I'll have to sanitize my entire body."

"I'm not  _that_ gross." protests Dave. "That looks pretty fishy, though."

"What?" With the pull of the reins, the carriage lurches forward.

"You can't keep your balance. That's pretty damned suspicious for a carriage driver." Dave frowns. He folds his arms across his chest and lets forth a soft, thoughtful sigh. For some reason, a thought crosses Karkat's mind—if Dave were, at this moment, a machine, he'd probably be spewing smoke by now as the gears in his head turned at maximum speed. "How do you feel about cloaks?"

"What?"

"Cloaks," repeats Dave, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Long fabric things that hang from your shoulders and come around to cover the front. Maybe... Maybe that's a cape. I'm not sure..."

"I know what a cloak is, you half-finished shit omelette," Karkat grunts. "I don't give a shit either way. Why? Is there some sort of point to this nonsensical questioning?"

Dave nods. "I'm thinking a leather vest. The back'll be mounted to the backrest and you just fit inside. Throw a cloak over it when it's cold and no one will suspect a thing."

"Hm..." Karkat nods slowly as he lets the information sink in. His mind strings together a reply as he goes. "You might be useful for something after all, Dave."

"It's another of those rare ideas with substance, dude," Dave retorts.

 

* * *

 

"You said you dated Karkat at some point, didn't you?"

Kanaya frowns. She looks up from the faded pages of the history book she's been haphazardly looking through and towards Rose, who just so happens to be sitting in the row directly opposite hers. She sighs. "He's a bit... Perhaps a bit more..." She pauses and taps her nails against the cover of the book as she thinks. "He's a confusing person. If I had to guess, it probably comes from his past and whatnot, but he can make surprisingly good company."

"So, then, why'd you stop dating?" Rose inquires, never once looking up from her book.

And Kanaya, too, lowers her gaze to the pages she was reading. "Something didn't feel right."

"Makes sense."

"Mhm." As she turns the page, Kanaya's attentions are caught by a sticker haphazardly placed on the upper right corner of the page. It's a small, round circle of gold whose face seems to indicate that it once had an embossed symbol on it. She carefully peels the sticker off and places it onto a flat page in one of the empty notebooks she's brought to use today. "I didn't know that you have Certified Dealership companies out here."

Rose looks up from her book and towards Kanaya with a quizzical frown. "You mean those fancy places that sell things made of real gold?" she inquires.

"Yes. I just found what I think is one of their stickers in a book."

"That's strange..." After a moment of silence, Rose returns to her studies. "I've never heard of them being here. No need for them to be in a Ward where no one can afford to buy anything."

"That makes sense."

"Dave's a bit of an art guy. And Jade can probably do something to approximate the former design of the sticker. I'll talk to them about this later."

Kanaya nods slowly. When she's sure that Rose isn't looking, she steals a glance at her. She studies her features and traces the line of her profile. As soon as she moves, though, Kanaya quickly looks back to her own book. "I'd..." She clears her throat. "Let's not tell them just yet. Karkat would certainly want to help if he knew about this but, to be quite honest, he's not the most gentle person."

"You mean that he's heavy-handed?" Rose snickers. "Dave is the same way, so I certainly agree with your idea." For a brief moment, her eyes wander and settle on Kanaya. Her gaze happens upon her thick black-brown hair before moving onward, following the curve of her lips. Then, she pulls away. She stares intently at the page she's been reading as she continues, "So... What sort of food do you like?"

"Anything," Kanaya shrugs. "I don't really have a preference. Why?"

"I don't know. I was just thinking that it would be an... idea... to go on a double date," Rose replies with the slightest hint of uncertainty. "Oh... Did I say 'an idea?'"

"Yes, you did," Kanaya chuckles. "I'll overlook that, though. That does sound like a delightful idea, though. I'll talk to Karkat about it."

"I'll talk to Dave."

"In the meantime, do you happen to have any dinner requests? Dave never was an exceptional chef, so..." A small smile appears on Rose's face as she recalls some of her half-brother's worst dishes. (Of all of his culinary failings, she's always favored the memory of him trying to make toast faster by turning up the temperature. Naturally, this resulted in a small fire. It also happened to be the incident that definitively voided his future kitchen privileges.)

Kanaya, in return, takes a moment to ponder the question. She doesn't particularly have any favorite dishes, though she's always been oddly fond of... "Macaroni and cheese."

Rose reacts with an unexpected snort of unbridled laughter. Though, before she replies, she takes a moment to regain her composure. "Really? That's an odd request from someone who's lived in Ward 1."

"My mother used to make it." Shrugging, Kanaya flips through a few more pages of her book. "She started a bit of a fashion empire. Most of our family history is in Ward 6, actually."

"From hunters to fashion designers. That's intriguing." Here, Rose works up the guts to look at Kanaya once more. And, at around the same time, Kanaya does the same. For a brief moment, their gazes meet.

Kanaya, however, quickly breaks the connection. She feels heat rising to her cheeks. There's an odd fluttering sensation deep within her. "I'll need to tell you that... Sometime... It's a long story."

"Mhm." Rose, too, can sense herself blushing. Unlike Kanaya, though, she knows that hers shows. To cover, she immerses herself in the next book that she picks from the shelf— _A Definitive History of Bricks._


	16. Memories of the Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from kaguya which i still haven't watched because i'm a fucking fuck [uwu](https://grruv.com/song-details/Memories-of-the-Village/i895667055) i couldn't find the original on youtube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so like clarification on the setup here because i'm a shit it's chronological and per chapter if it's night in segment and the day in the next, it means that the other one is after the first does that make sense probably not oops

"Dude. Hey... Hey... Asshole."

Karkat frowns. He opens his eyes and lets them adjust enough in the darkness to see a sad-looking Dave Strider standing at the foot of his bed. "What?" he grumbles. "Fucking shit, dude, what do you fucking want? I just want to go back to sleep."

"It's cold," Dave mutters.

"Yeah?"

"The floor... is also... cold..."

"Your fucking point?"

"Can I maybe share the bed...?"

After making sure he heard the question, Karkat lets forth a disinterested sigh. He scoots closer to the wall. "Just don't get too fucking close to me, you damned creep."

Dave nods eagerly before roughly dropping into the bad.

Karkat can feel the warmth of his body against his side. Glancing over, it dawns upon him that Dave has completely disregarded his warning and happens to have his back pressed firmly against him. Again, he sighs. "Hey. Strider. Strider!" he nudges the man by the shoulder—gently at first, then forcefully. Either way, it doesn't do much good. He's already fallen back to sleep.

"And this is what you get for being nice, jackass," he mutters to himself.

Yawning, he folds his arms behind his head and drifts back into a world of dreams.

 

 

"Hey. Asshole. You're late."

Dave frowns. He lets forth a moan of tired annoyance and rolls over so that his back faces the intrusion. "Leave me alone, Bro," he grumbles.

"What? No. Goddammit."

For some reason, this breaks through the groggy haze around Dave's mind. It dawns upon him that: (a.) his brother was wiped off the face of this planet years ago in a drunken machinery accident; and, (b.) the person talking was actually a man by the name of Karkat Vantas. What doesn't occur to him is how the hell Karkat got out of bed without him noticing. He sighs and rubs his eyes before sitting up. "You're... It's Sunday, dude. No work on Sundays."

"It... is?"

"Yeah. Weird, right? Time is a load of bullshit." Dave shrugs. Still half-asleep, he instinctively reaches to nudge Karkat's shoulder—it's how he'd tell Bro to fuck off in the early hours of the morning, after all. A powerful grip around his wrist reminds him of reality, though.

"Just because I let you sleep in the bed because it was fucking cold doesn't give you the right to touch me, Strider," he huffs.

Dave, in return, nods slowly. He runs his fingers through his hair and tries to jump-start his brain. "What... How did you wake up without me noticing?"

"Does it really matter that much?" Karkat responds, quirking his brow in confusion. "There're two other ways to get off of a bed. Specifically this one. I just went down the long way." He tugs at the collar of the shirt he's wearing—an old, stained, formerly formal shirt that once belonged to Dave. "God fucking dammit. Your arms are too long."

"Sorry, dude." Dave blinks. The world becomes a bit clearer. "I don't really mind if you just cut the sleeves."

"It's one of those lovely days where my hand has decided to check out," mutters Karkat.

After a few seconds of gathering the information he's gathered from the most immediately recent events, Dave formulates a reply. "Yeah... Sorry... Look, I'm not totally awake yet..." Still, even as he says this, another layer of fog which clouds his mind peel back. He finds himself staring at Karkat's left hand. The statement from earlier pops into his mind as he notices the unnatural stiffness of all but the index finger and thumb. It's still too early, though...

"I can punch you in the gut. Would that wake you up?"

Dave frowns. He sighs. Just a little bit more... "What?"

"My fist. At high speed. Impacting your cocky gut," repeats Karkat.

The final layer of sleepy fog starts to dissipate. Dave shakes his head. "No. Nah. No no nope. How about we not do that? Besides, I was going to work on modifying that eyesore you're in all the time." (Why did he say that? That certainly wasn't what he'd been thinking about doing today...)

Still, the look of appreciative shock on Karkat's face is enough to change his formerly undefined plans. "That'd be pretty cool, I guess."

With a long sigh, Dave finally stumbles gracelessly from the bed. "Okay. Fine. Let me go eat and get myself together," he responds as he heads for the door.

Karkat, in return, offers a small hint of a smile and an affirmative nod.

 

* * *

 

"Hm." Kanaya frowns. She peeks over the top of the notebook she's sketching in. Her brows knit together as she concentrates on the image before her. "You're... I'm going to say you're a pink person."

"What?" Rose frowns. She glances over at Kanaya, who just so happens to be seated about a yard or so away from the bed. "Yeah. Pink is nice."

"Pink and black," Kanaya clarifies. She pauses briefly before taking an eraser to the page. "So this won't do at all."

"You could have at least shown me what it was before you erased it."

Kanaya shakes her head, her thick, black-brown hair bouncing as she moves. "No. Nope, Absolutely not. You will see only the finished product."

"Is that so?" Rose smirks. She rolls over so that she's resting on her back rather than her side. She watches as light which shines through the cracked bedroom window dances across the ceiling. "Well, then, I'll just have to wait. What the hell are you designing, anyhow?"

"That's a secret," as she responds, Kanaya hides her face behind the notebook.

Still, Rose gets an odd sense that the expression she's hiding is likely a smug grin. She doesn't mention this, though. "Were there a copious amount of beautiful women in Ward 1?" she asks, folding her hands behind her head.

"None as beautiful as you," Kanaya replies slyly.

Rose, in return, snickers. "How eloquent."

"There was a woman named Vriska. She was quite fascinating. We didn't end well, though. She was a bit... aggressive."

"So is Karkat."

"No..." A thoughtful sigh escapes Kanaya. The tip of her pencil knocks against the paper of her notebook a few times before she finally continues, "She was the... unnerving sort of aggressive. She took quite a bit of pleasure in things that were bothersome to me. So, I broke up with her. You?"

"I tried dating Jade. She wasn't interested. In fact, she took quite a liking to Dave for a while..."

 

* * *

 

Karkat Vantas sits atop a somewhat unstable wooden chair in the corner of the main shop. His arms are folded across his chest and his shoulder rests casually against the wall as he watches Dave tinker with an array of mechanical parts.

"What're your priorities with this, dude?" Dave mutters, pausing to examine one of the gears he's picked up. He frowns, shakes his head, and drops it into a bucket to his left.

"I don't fucking know. Make it more useful, I guess." Karkat shrugs. "The idea of making it bounce less is a pretty good one."

"Hm." Dave nods. He plucks from the stack of assorted pieces a myriad of springs and cogs and sheets of metal. And, with machine-like precision, he begins to work. It's something that comes naturally to him. He's always worked with machines; Bro owned the shop first, after all. And, not out of affection for his brother, but out of necessity, Dave had taken on his brother's former role. He's worked with these types of things for as long as he's been legally able to—and, seeing as the legal working age in Ward 12 is ten, that just so happens to be a majority of his lifetime.

A calm silence falls between the two.

After a while, Dave pulls the chair a bit closer to him. He flips it and fiddles with the bottom for a while.

Karkat simply watches. He knows nothing about what is happening, so he's mainly here out of convenience. And, in some way, he guesses it could be necessity. Certainly, he won't be getting anywhere of important without the chair. Still, he's not very attached to it. He doesn't object to the radical changes Dave is making. In fact, as time passes and the noises of metal against metal and metal against wood become background noise, he starts to close his eyes and...

"Hey. Dude. I'm done."

"Hm?" Karkat frowns. He opens his eyes and stares forwards until his vision has cleared. "You're...?"

"It's a spring-driven thing, so I'd keep your fingers away from it," Dave explains, motioning towards the chair.

By observation alone, it seems to have changed little. The height has been lowered by a noticeable but inconsequential amount. A tattered pillow replaces the old leather seat and seems to be mounted on a sturdier base. A lever by the left knee is also new, and Karkat has a sense of what it does before he's definitively told. He lets Dave have his fun, though...

"The lever's a new braking mechanism..."

Karkat nods. Exactly as he had expected...

"Also, I'm going to admit that I might have accidentally melted the original seat with some metal so... You got a new one."

"Old one sucked, so I don't really care. Can I have it back now?"

"Yeah. Sure." Dave smirks. He gives it a sturdy push with the toe of his shoe and watches as it slides across the floor.

At the end of its path, Karkat catches it by one of the handles. He fiddles with the brake for a few moments before deeming it safe enough to use. And, as he drops into the seat, he notes the fact that the entire thing moves with him rather than against him. Instead of sending shudders through the frame, the springs seem to let the weight redistribute itself. "I hate to say it, Strider," he admits, "But there's definitely something more than hot air in your head."

Dave, in return, offers a brief flash of a genuine smile. "Nice." He seems ready to say more when a knock on the door stops him.

Both men turn, though neither of them answer the knock.

And, after a few minutes, a piece of folded paper is slipped through the crack beneath the door. Of the two, Karkat is the first to retrieve it.

Somewhere deep in his gut, he gets a sense that this isn't exactly a party invitation. Still, he's too curious to let it stay closed. So, he opens it.

**Anyone suspected of hiding the whereabouts of Karkat Vantas is liable to be questioned by local police.**

**Anyone found guilty of aiding Karkat Vantas is to be executed.**

**The heads of any supporters of Karkat are now liable for rewards of up to $25,000**

"Shit," he breathes.

"It's probably some shitty threat from the clock company that wants to buy us out," Dave's voice breaks through Karkat's thoughts.

And Karkat, acting on an impulse, folds the note and shoves it into his pocket. "It was," he mutters. "I'll throw it out later."

"I can put it in the incinerator," Dave offers.

"I've got it." Karkat frowns. He heaves a long, heavy sigh before fidgeting once more with his chairs newfound brakes and departing, calling over his shoulder as he leaves, "Thanks again for the work. I owe you."

The front door to the shop opens. It closes. The distinctive clicking of the house door being opened and the odd baritone clang of it locking shut ring through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments feedback and messages about things i didn't notice when i did my half-assed read check are appreciated and welcomed.


	17. Robot Soldiers (Resurrection)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeNk_p9A2iY) aka in which shit gets intense (but only for a little bit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [me, doing the worm]  
> the amporas  
> are not  
> my favorite  
> characters

_This guy's bad news. This jackass with the purple cape and the hood whose shadows hide his face._

_Sure, he's got a wad of money, but he's bad news. And it's late at night._

_"We should really just go home, dude," Dave suggested._

_Karkat, in return, rolled his eyes. "You're just afraid of the dark, Dave. Chill out."_

_The carriage lurched forwards._

_Ten minutes later, the carriage came to a sudden halt. The door slammed open. The passenger scrambled out, onto the ground, and disappeared into the night._

 

"Fuck..." Karkat frowns. His voice is hoarse and strained. "I was wrong. Fuck. I hate being wrong."

"What the hell happened?" Dave's question is halfway between panic and disbelief. His mind floats in another world—the world of just minutes ago, where everything had been fine and he'd been doing little more than engaging in friendly banter with his friend and copilot. "Dude...?" A smell lingers in the air. It's the distinctive, metallic smell of blood—the type of thing that is, perhaps, not so much a smell as it is a sour taste in the back of Dave's mouth. His eyes dart wildly around as he tries to evaluate Karkat for injuries. No... Wait... If there's one thing his useless deadbeat of a brother ever taught him... He breathes in and shoves aside his emotions. When he speaks, his own voice echoes in his head—and it's as flat and detached as he's come to expect it to be. "Stop moving."

Karkat, meanwhile, lets forth one of his usual hoarse coughs. He presses against his knee with his left hand before freezing and letting forth another wheeze. "Shit. Fucking shit."

"Calm down."

"I need that." Sweat beads on Karkat's brow. His usually controlled breathing is uneven and haphazard. Perhaps unconsciously, his left hand grabs frantically onto his right arm. "Fuck. Not now."

Dave, meanwhile, lets the information sink in. He carefully removes himself from the carriage seat so as to keep rocking to a minimum and peeks into the open doorway. Within this formerly opulent faded silk interior, he notices the problem—a fairly well-built knife with what he assumes to be a fair portion of the blade sticking from the wall that acts as the coachmaster bench's backrest. He returns to the bench and replaces himself at his spot in a similarly delicate way.

"I... It's..." Karkat stammers. By now, his breathing is a mixture of deep, rasping gasps for air and shallow wheezes. There is no in-between.

"This is going to hurt. Sorry." Dave's words echo again in his mind as he grabs onto the reins and pulls.

The carriage lurches forwards.

Karkat responds with a pained groan. "You fucking shit-stick," he breathes, "We can't go to a hospital."

"Rose knows a lot about medicine. Long story."

The carriage bounces as it hits a pothole.

And, with a low growl, Karkat passes out.

 

* * *

 

"Karkat'll be fine, right?"

Rose Lalonde looks up, her eyes meeting Kanaya's, and she nods. She sighs. The smell of dense, filthy smoke from across the street permeates the air. For once, the books around her do nothing to lighten the mood. "His wound is particularly nasty and will undoubtedly be painful, but he'll survive. He's going to be pissed that we left his old writing in the house when we lit it on fire, though."

Kanaya, too, nods. She takes a seat on the floor beside Rose. "Definitely, but it's for everyone's safety." She sighs. "Dave?"

"He's the one I'm worried about," Rose responds with a thin, empty smile. "He's going to blame himself for this."

"Hm..." Sighing, Kanaya sits down on the floor beside Rose. She puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Well, he's got Karkat, right? And you."

Rose smirks. "He'll be more interested in the former," she admits.

"And you've got me, right?" Kanaya adds quickly.

A moment of silence. Rose nods. She leans her weight against Kanaya's shoulder and lets forth a heavy sigh. "Thanks."

"No problem." Kanaya, too, sighs. She wraps her arm around Rose's shoulder. "My condolences on the loss of your house."

Rose shrugs. "It was a piece of shit, anyways. My sympathies for the injury of your friend."

"Further condolences for the probable mental distress this will cause your..." Kanaya hesitates.

And, for some reason, Rose can't help but let a small smile slip past her defenses. "Half-brother," she mutters.

"Yes. I extend my sympathies to him, as well." Kanaya yawns. She leans against the wall behind her...

 

* * *

 

Karkat wakes to find himself on a mattress laid out in the middle of a dusty, forgotten library. He wakes to find his right arm in a sling and a visibly shaken Dave sitting at his feet. He attempts to sit up, only to drop back against the mattress when he feels the pain just behind his right shoulder blade. "Fuck."

Dave looks up. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and quickly replaces his glasses. He forces an anxious smile onto his face. "'Sup?"

"Nothing much," Karkat answers sarcastically. "So... I still have the arm?"

There's a long pause before Dave answers, though he takes a moment to redirect his gaze to the ceiling. "Maybe," he mutters. "Rose patched you up. She says she couldn't see how much damage was done. But she's optimistic that it's just shock..." He shoves his hands into his pockets and scuffs the toe of his shoe against the floor. "They burnt down the house to cover for a while. We're in a room that Kanaya found above the floor she purchased when she moved here..."

"Oh." Karkat sighs. "I hate to say it, but you were right."

Dave, in return, offers a hint of a smirk. "Yeah. It's Strider intuition, dude."

"So, what? Are we presumed dead?"

"Not quite." The expression on Dave's face fades back to something akin to apathy. "We're considered missing."

"Shit."

"Yeah..." Dave buries his hands in his pockets and absentmindedly studies the rusted chandelier which dangles above the center of the room. "So... I think hiding is out of the question."

"And what the fuck do you suggest, then, Strider?"

"I'm not too sure..." Here, Dave lets forth an odd snicker of bittersweet laughter. "I've gotten myself into some shit. But I've never gotten this fucked over. You?"

"Same," Karkat grumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [me, still doing the worm]  
> wow how did u guess  
> that the amporas  
> still aren't my favorite  
> characters  
>   
> what should they do vote now on your phones!  
> (and everyone voted so hard that the palace caught on fire)


	18. Honor for All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i cheated again  
> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQwn6M1RMc)  
> actually from the dishonored soundtrack. by jon and daniel licht.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now would probs be a good time to mention this was inspired by dishonored  
> yes the song that is what the refrance

"The Ward 12 Safety Commission would like to remind people to stay indoors. Recent snowstorms have left the roads impassable. If anyone should encounter Karkat Vantas or Dave Strider, they are to be considered armed and dangerous. Residents are permitted to use lethal force against them in self defense." The radio crackles in the corner.

Rose Lalonde sighs. She flips through the pages of a book, though she's not very interested in reading it.

Nearby, Kanaya sits on the floor. Swathes of cloth surround her, as do pages of notes.

A few yards away, Dave stands beside Karkat. He leans against a nearby bookshelf and folds his arms across his chest.

Karkat, meanwhile, is still sprawled out on the mattress. He stares at the cobwebs which hang from the elaborately molded ceiling. "If we're so damned snowed in, why would they expect us to be outside?" he grumbles.

Dave, in return, shrugs. "They're dipshits. For all they know, we're secretly space men trying to colonize the world in the name of Jupiter." A loud, drawn-out sigh escapes him. "Rose!"

"No," comes the blunt reply. "This place is a massive match. You light a cigarette in here, and we'll all be dead."

"Fuck." Without really thinking about it, Dave pulls a cigarette from his pocket. He twirls it between his fingers and, after a few moments, crushes it against his palm. He tosses it to the ground and disinterestedly grinds the heel of his shoe against it. From time to time, he picks up his foot to see how finely he's pulverized it against the hardwood. Eventually, though, he stops. He looks up. "Hey, Karkat."

Karkat responds with a huff of acknowledgement.

"Any idea who put the bounty out?"

"How would I know? I've been in Ward 12 the past however fucking many days. Weeks. Years." He rolls his eyes.

"It hasn't quite been a year yet, Karkat," points out Kanaya. "As I was in Ward 1 when the decision was being made, I do have a theory. There are two possible targets—the Vantas patriarch or one of the Amporas."

"What the fuck is an ampora?" Dave mutters. "Isn't it an ugly vase?"

"That's an amphora," Rose chimes in.

Kanaya nods in agreement. "The Amporas are part of the Vantas lineage by marital right. Cronus is the eldest child, and he just so happened to be marrying Karkat's brother when the events which have thus led us here conspired."

This garners a long sigh from Karkat. "Never thought about that Ampora fuckers being the ones who put out the hit. Makes a whole lot of sense. Kankri'll be pissed as fuck if that's the case, though." His eyes narrow as Rose approaches him with a box in her hand. "Look, I might be one arm down, but I'm not letting you stab me with any fucking needles."

Rose offers a reassuring smile. "No needles. I promise. It's just a first aid kit that Jade gave me a while ago."

"For what? Papercuts?" Dave snickers.

"Actually," Rose's reply isn't without a hint of laughter, "She told me it was for you. You are a bit clumsy."

In reply, Dave's cheeks glow a vibrant shade of pink. He shakes his head and stares at the ceiling. "Whatever," he mutters.

Again, Rose snickers. She pulls forth a vial of bubbling red liquid and uncorks it. "Really. No needles. Just sit up for five minutes."

Karkat sighs. He props himself up on his good elbow and waits.

After pouring it onto her hand, Rose rubs the contents of the vial onto the bandaging over Karkat's shoulder.

The reaction is an odd sound that's halfway between a gasp and a growl. "Shit. That feels... odd..."

"'Course it does," shrugs Dave. "It's healing salve. Around here, you don't get time off for injuries. You slap some of this shit on it and hope you didn't get a shitty one."

"Oh," Karkat grumbles, rolling his eyes. He tries to drop back onto the mattress, though Rose's hand against his back stops him. Reluctantly, he props himself back up. "That's... comforting. Thanks, Dave."

"No problem. Really, though, that's from Jade. She makes some of the best stuff around." Here, Dave removes his glasses. He clips them to the collar of his shirt as he continues, "Not sure how it works, but it's supposed to create new bonds in the injury. So... Hm... If you break a bone, I guess, you'd set it and pour this on it. Give it a few hours to a day and it should've done enough to keep your wound together while it heals."

"Don't you have hospitals for that?" asks Karkat, his brows furrowing into a concave arch of confusion.

Rose, in return, closes the box and wanders back towards Kanaya. "We used to. They took them down years ago, though." She shrugs and seats herself in a clear space just behind one of Kanaya's piles of fabric. "Whatever the case may be, Kanaya and I have come up with a plan."

"What the fuck!?"

"I have fuckin' great ideas."

The replies of Karkat and Dave—respectively—come in unison. As they finish speaking, their gazes meet. Dave offers a small but cocky smirk, to which Karkat responds with a roll of his eyes.

Still, Rose remains unfazed. "Well, here's the thing. There's only one real way to solve this. And that's to eliminate the originator of the bounty."

"You mean—"

"What Rose means," interjects Kanaya, "Is that we can now take only a small handful of routes to arrive at the desired conclusion of this messy affair. And, really, all of the options are messy in their own respects. The only feasible one is going to be to kill the supplier of the bounty."

"Ah. Yes. Prevent my own execution by murdering someone. It's not like murder is a crime punishable by death," huffs Karkat.

"Well, you could always try to reason with whoever has a multi-million dollar grudge against you," Rose adds.

Karkat sighs. He drops back against the mattress and runs the fingers of his left hand through his hair. "I've fucked up big time."

"Yeah!" Dave agrees.

"You don't have to sound so damned excited about it."

An insincere look of offense crosses Dave's face. "I'm trying to be supportive."

Rose clears her throat. She speaks above the asinine banter. "Kanaya is designing disguises at the moment. They should be done over the course of the next few days."

"We're not putting on masks, right?"

"Are you still upset about that one time someone put butter in your school party mask, David?"

Dave's cheeks burn a brilliant pink. "No," he shoots back. "I just... Fuck you. Did I ask for your input?"

"Nope." A smug smile works its way onto Rose's face. It lingers as she continues, "I'm not a fashion person. According to Kanaya, though, a good, dramatic change in wardrobe should hold off most comments."

Karkat responds skeptically. "That's fucking great. And I'm going to be stuck inside this fucking abandoned library?"

"For now, you should be fine." Dave butts into the conversation. He toys with his tinted glasses. "Injuries are a pretty common thing around here. After all, everyone's spending all day in front of fuckin' massive machines. If you're not eaten all the way, you're spit out. Happens all the time..." Here, he pauses. He rubs the back of his neck and stares at a nondescript point on the floor. "Maybe... not... all the time... But it's not uncommon. There's... Who was it? Some kid at the factory that makes shit for cattle ranchers?"

"Tavros," Rose fills in. "Yeah. And there're some others. He's probably the only one who's gotten into the news, though."

"But, yeah, you get my point, right?" Dave nods. After a few seconds, he seems to decide that Karkat's answer is positive, as he keeps talking. "Besides, I've already remodeled your chair. Should be pretty easy to slip that much under the radar. Not like anyone with that much money to invest in the return of someone's decapitated head would actually come down here."

Karkat sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Fine, Dave, you actually have a point. I fucking give up. At this point, I'm just going with all this bullshit."

"Oh!"

Now, Rose sighs. "Oh... Fuck... David, what is it?"

Dave offers an eager grin. "Are we getting super cool weapons? Karkat never gave me any when I was with him—"

"I didn't have any—"

"I want a hidden knife!" interjects Dave, raising his vocal volume until he's somehow managed to drown out Karkat's protests. "You know. Like... A bracelet thing. And the blade goes..." He motions straight along the line of his inner arm from the crook of his elbow with his hand, though it's apparent from Rose's expression that she doesn't exactly understand what he's getting at. Kanaya's expression, though, is more understanding; but, at the same time, it's pointedly apathetic. "Swoosh. Like... Pops out...? Yeah. I want one of those."

"How about we give you one that goes backwards. And, instead of a knife, it's a heavenly serum that makes you shut the fuck up?" Karkat mutters.

Dave pouts. "Fine. Go ahead and shit in my punch bowl."

"Sounds fine by me," snickers a thoroughly amused Karkat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [doing the worm again]  
> fuck coherent chronological accuracy  
> depending on how long this goes this might go through a drought of "oh my god essays and college and screaming" for a while but idek maybe not maybe i will just make bad decisions and write gay fanfiction while also writing college papers


	19. Cliffside Waltz II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/4Gd4gshyw7I/)  
>  "but what about part i??? nyeeeeeeeeeeeeeh"

"Ever handled a sword before?"

Karkat Vantas frowns. He glances at Dave and rolls his eyes. "In Ward 1, we mostly use guns. Pistols. Biggest I've ever shot is a standard shotgun." He shrugs. By now, his shoulder has healed as much as it can for the time being. Prior to leaving with Kanaya to get food, Rose deemed the arm fit to return to regular use. He rolls up the sleeves of his dirtied button-up shirt, revealing a fair amount of muscle beneath. "Besides," he adds, "I'm more comfortable fighting hand-to-hand."

"Like you could do much damage," Dave snorts. "When and where the fuck would you have ever learned how to—?"

Smirking, Karkat wheels closer to Dave. "Fine. You want to try?"

Normally pale cheeks turn a bright red. Rubbing the back of his neck, Dave responds, "I'd really... Rather..."

"Just fucking do it, jackass," demands Karkat.

Dave nods. He throws a weak punch—one which is easily dodged by backing up.

"Actually punch me, asshole. What're you afraid of?" Karkat's smirk widens. "What? You don't want to get your ass kicked?"

The response is a huff of mild annoyance. Dave throws another punch—not quite his full potential, but not exactly holding back. Instead of hitting the target, Karkat's forearm pushes the attack away, downwards, and around. By the end of the movement, Dave finds his arm caught between Karkat's shoulder and the crook of his elbow. "Shit. Shit! Okay! I get it. Message is fuckin' understood."

A huff of pride. Karkat releases his grip on Dave and pushes his free arm against his chest at the same time. He takes a considerable amount of pleasure in watching his friend and sparring partner stagger backwards a few steps before regaining his balance. "Exactly. You still want to try?"

"Not really," grumbles Dave, massaging his shoulder. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Practice and boredom," explains Karkat. "One of the biggest architectural features in Ward 1 is massive fucking stairways that lead to equally huge doors. I didn't have all that much to do." He sighs, and repositions himself before continuing. "Besides, people in Ward 1 were jackasses. Once I roughed them up a few times, though, they got the point."

"So, what? Shitty teenage pranks?" Dave inquires.

"Try middle school." counters Karkat. He tugs at his fingerless gloves. "Preteens fucking suck. Slam them into the ground a few times and they start to get the point."

"Makes enough sense..." Dave folds his arms across his chest. He casually leans his weight against a nearby bookcase.

"Where'd you learn how to use a sword?"

"Blades are cheap. Main thing you see around here, really."

"Hm."

"And what if someone gets you on the ground?"

Karkat shrugs. He locks the chair in place and leans his elbow against the left wheel. "Take out the legs," he says succinctly. "Is there any food downstairs?"

"How would I know?"

"You fucking go downstairs, you twit." To emphasize his point, Karkat unlocks the brakes and approaches Dave, shoving him in the direction of the dangling rope which leads from the hole in the floor to Kanaya's home below.

Dave sighs. "Fine, jackass," he grumbles as he awkwardly clambers down the rope.

After a few moments, he finds the fridge. He calls back up to Karkat. "Empty. It's almost like they  _had_ to go buy more food, right?"

"Did I ask for the sarcasm?" Karkat huffs.

"Nope." After a few minutes of silence, Dave returns to the supposedly secret floor. He sighs, sits down beside Karkat, and draws his knees to his chest. His eyes wander and, after a moment, his gaze lands upon a window visible through the hole in the floor. "It's snowing again..."

"Wonderful. Thank you for the weather report, Strider."

"You think they'll be okay?"

"Kanaya could fucking kill a man if she wanted to..."

"Rose could too..." Dave snickers. "So... I guess that's a yeah..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is spring break so sorry if updates don't happen as much


	20. Prayer | The Beautiful Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8tXOSGDSM0)  
>  okay so the actual soundtrack lists most of these songs in this mishmash as a line of "the beautiful dead" and i think it goes up to three or four but i can't remember and don't want to check so that's why the chapter is named like this

He stares at his own reflection with an expression of dissatisfaction and confusion as he tugs at the sleeves of his new black overcoat. "This is... boring..."

"Presumably," Kanaya says from her spot nearby, "You wanted something bright?"

"Red. I love red. Give me red," Dave grumbles.

"Yes, well, red is quite a garish color." Here, Kanaya pauses. She studies the fabric she's working on for a moment before continuing, "We're trying to blend in. Not stick out. Look at Karkat, he loves his outfit."

As if on cue, Karkat waves. Like Dave, he's been given freshly made clothes. Grey pants, a black overcoat with a hood, and some ratty old shoes. His gloves have been replaced with something more formal. While the palms are made of white leather, the rest of the gloves—the parts which cover his fingers—are made from a thin but durable cotton-like fabric. The two materials blend together, giving off the illusion of a singular dress glove.

Dave, however, remains unimpressed. "That's because Karkat already dressed like he was ready for a funeral," he protests. "Look, I need  _color_. Something that pops."

"How about my fist against your face?" Rose hums nonchalantly.

"Shit." Dave falls silent. He tugs at the collar of the white shirt beneath his jacket and lets forth a loud, exaggerated sigh. "So, what? We still don't have any way to get out of this dump."

"Actually, Rose and I found an old service elevator." Kanaya stands up, leaving behind the stool she's been sitting on, and walks over to the furthest wall. She pulls aside a curtain to reveal a rickety elevator whose door consists of little more than sliding brass gate. By all appearances, though, the elevator is spacious...

"I hypothesize that this was used as a freight elevator at some point," Kanaya offers as explanation. "Someone likely used it to bring the books up here. It lets out to the back alleyway."

"And what about the giant fucking hole in the ceiling?"

Rose and Kanaya smirk in unison. However, the former of the two is the first to speak, "We'll be boarding it up. So you two will have some privacy soon."

"The implications of that statement are... questionable..." Karkat mutters in protest.

"I have to agree. I'm not really big on... um... butts? Would that be it?" interjects Dave.

"Shut up. Fucking shut up."

Dave smirks. He shrugs. "I thought we  _weren't_ fucking..."

"Are you always this...?" Kanaya begins.

"Unbearably annoying?" finishes Rose. "Yes. Yes he is."

Karkat sighs. He repositions himself and rubs his palms against his knees. "This is all beyond the realms of pointless. We've shunned reality. Welcome to the fucking fifth dimension of bullshit," he grumbles. "I'm leaving. I've been trapped in this dusty jail cell of books." He unlocks his breaks and heads towards the door. And, as he notices Dave following, he lets forth a reluctant sigh.

The pair clambers awkwardly onto the elevator and Dave pulls the lever to lower it...

 

* * *

 

Rose sighs. She folds her arms across her chest and glances at Kanaya. "You did a nice job on Dave's outfit. He looks less like an eccentric asshole than usual."

"He doesn't seem to like it," Kanaya comments, smiling wryly.

"Karkat certainly likes his."

"He's not so picky." Kanaya offers a small smile. "Now, about the hole in the floor..."

"Cover both sides with wood and plaster," is Rose's succinct reply.

"Well, we got the wood while we were out yesterday, correct?"

Rose smirks. She pulls out one of the rusty hammers they'd purchased and tosses it Kanaya, who catches it with ease. "Exactly." She reaches into the bags and pulls forth another hammer and a box of nails. "Theoretically, if we finish this fast enough, we can take a better look around up here."

A sly grin works its way onto Kanaya's face as she replies, "That certainly seems like an excellent plan."

 

* * *

 

"Got any money?"

Karkat Vantas sighs. He turns his head to look over his shoulder at Dave. "Not for you."

"Fine," Dave shrugs. He follows his travelling companion down an aisle of a store with shelves filled with oddities. Jarred wax body parts and rusting, repurposed chandeliers made to look like tentacles. "What're we doing here, anyhow?"

"Bored," Karkat answers simply. He leans forward, picks up a jar with a pair of fake eyes, and frowns. By turning it about in his hand, he observes it and its contents. "These certainly are... different..." He sets it down and pulls another item. As far as he can tell, this particular piece is supposed to be a brain mounted upon a candlestick. Still... Karkat's pretty sure that brains aren't orange... "Is this the sort of shit that people in Ward 12 spend their money on?"

"What else would we waste our expendable income on?" snickers Dave. "Food goes bad fast and there's not a whole lot of quote unquote luxury vendors... Well... There are... They're just hella illegal."

"Wonderful." Rolling his eyes, Karkat returns the item to the shelf. He backs out of the narrow aisle until he has space to turn so that he's facing the door. "Well, that was my turn. You pick the next place we go to, I guess."

Dave nods. He lets the idea settle in his mind for a few moments before abruptly spurting forth an answer. "Ice cream" is the response and it is, naturally, accompanied by a snap and finger guns.

Despite this grandiose performance, Karkat seems unmoved. "It's winter, Dave. What the fuck?"

"Fine." Again, Dave appends a snap and a pair of finger guns to the end of his commentary, "How about we go for a hot date at the sandwich place?"

Karkat, still unamused, shrugs. "If that's what will shut you the fuck up."

Regardless of his words, when Dave steals a brief glance at Karkat, his modest smile is apparent. And, armed with this knowledge, Dave, too, allows himself the luxury of a small grin.

 

Upon returning to their semi-hidden abode, Karkat and Dave find that the gap in the floor has been sealed. Two notes are pinned to the wall.

One of them is from Rose and Kanaya. Quite simply, it's a "good night" and a cautionary warning to avoid putting too much weight on the repaired segment of flooring. In fact, it even includes a length of bright red rope with which Kanaya recommends the pair outline the problem area.

The second letter, however, only Karkat seems to recognize. In fact, he does more than recognize it. He glares at it for a few moments before ripping it from the wall and scrutinizing it...

To Dave, the flowery, flourishing red cursive means nothing. The "K. V. " signed at the bottom mean nothing.

But, obviously, it all means something to Karkat...

> _Karkat,_
> 
> _I'm not sure how long this will take to reach wherever it is you are hiding._
> 
> _Regardless, I feel it is my duty to inform you of the current family situation. As you have likely been made aware of, your head is now worth a fair sum of money. This has undoubtedly led to some internal conflict about the issue of the initiator of the conflict._
> 
> _Now, I am certain that you will ignore my warning on the basis of my opinions being inherently biased. However, for your benefit, I insist that you at least entertain the idea I propose. Neither Cronus nor father are the initiators of the contract. In fact, Cronus extends his personal apologies for your current situation. He and I are both outraged that anyone would dare to put such a notice out for you, as you are clearly unable and unfit to fight back._
> 
> _You will undoubtedly ignore this advice, but I still felt the need to report to you this information._
> 
> _My sources include a few conversations I've eavesdropped on and some authorized documents from both Cronus and father._
> 
> _I hope that you are well and extend my condolences and frustrations in regards to your current situation._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _K. V._


	21. In Search of Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> technically it's "silent love (in search of something)" but i mean [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qmmka0K2BcU)

"You never did tell me what the note was about."

Karkat Vantas frowns. He looks up from the toast he's eating—a breakfast sent by Rose and Kanaya by placing it on the elevator via a small hidden compartment downstairs—and sighs. "It was from Kankri," he mutters. "He's my jackass of a brother. It's quite possible that he means well, but he's the most condescending bastard I've ever had the displeasure of socially interacting with."

"Like... Subtle or—?"

"More like the shitty type of person who's always all over me trying to  _help_ ," interjects Karkat, emphasizing his point with air quotes. "It usually doesn't even help. And I'm not too sure how he thinks that pushing me fucking anywhere besides  _away from him_ is helpful at all."

"Oh." Dave frowns. He glances at the floor in front of him, whereupon he has placed a napkin with his own food atop, and sighs. "Yeah. My Bro..." He stops, shakes his head, and dismissively waves his hand. "It's a long story. Never mind."

Karkat, in return, nods. He swallows the final bit of toast and wheels over to the western wall—the only one with anything like a window.

In reality, it's a sealed space which was once a window. Since then, though, the wooden boards sealing it shut have degraded. A tiny crack between two of them thus functions as a portal to the outside world.

And, sitting before this gap, Karkat lets forth a loud sigh. With his hands on his knees for balance, he leans forward to get a better look. "Cloudy. Probably cold..." He grabs onto the locked wheels for a moment to push himself back into a more reasonable position before turning to face Dave. "Hey, Strider, I've got a question for you."

"Hm?"

"Rose and Kanaya. They're together, aren't they?"

Dave responds with a snort of laughter. "No fuckin' shit."

"Look, I'm just trying to change the topic," mutters Karkat. "But... um... I don't know..." He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck before redirecting his gaze to the brakes Dave had installed on his chair. He fiddles with it, flicking it repeatedly with his thumb as he lets forth a loud, pensive sigh. "I..." he stops. "I was just wondering if... You would..." Another stop. He lets forth one of his odd, wheezing coughs and massages his temples. "Maybe you wanted to... I don't know..." After a loud groan of frustration and a final verbal break, he lets the jumble of words clashing about in his head. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he speaks. "You're a jackass, Strider. You're a fucking insufferable jackass and I hate you. But, by some paradoxical twist of bullshit, I've managed to hate you enough to... maybe... like you..."

In return, Dave nods slowly. A wide, cocky grin has worked its way onto his features. "How fuckin' eloquent," he snickers, folding his arms across his chest. "But, yeah, you shouting bastard, I guess I like you, too."

With this, Karkat lets forth another sigh—this time, one of relief. Despite his best efforts, a nervous smile slips past his defenses. "I... Really? You don't think I'm just doing it because we're stuck together with massive bounties?" he mutters. "And... I don't know. This... Admittedly, this went a whole lot fucking better than I anticipated..."

"Nah," Dave says. "Nah. That sure as hell could be a reason, but you're still pretty fuckin' cool for a snotty rich asshole."

Karkat wheels back towards Dave, stopping about a yard away. Only now does the height difference between them cross his mind. "Unfortunate."

"What?"

"You're tall."

"I've noticed."

"Fuck you."

"That's taking it a bit far, now, isn't it?" Dave smirks. After a few moments, though, he adopts a more serious expression. He removes his shades and clips them to his collar as he continues, "Really, though, I'm not too positive about how all of this will end. So, hey, might as well enjoy it while our heads are still attached to the rest of our fuckin' bodies, right?"

Karkat nods. "Hate to admit it, but I'm not optimistic, either."

"Do you believe Kankri, then?"

"About who ordered the hit?" Karkat shakes his head. A bitter laugh escapes him. "He's fucking lying. And maybe he's just not going to admit either of them did it. But it's a fucking lie." He frowns. "Got any smokes left?"

"Two. How appropriate." He shakes these free of the carton and lights his own before handing both the cigarette and a lighter to Karkat. "Didn't Rose say not to smoke here?"

"I don't give a fuck anymore," Karkat growls, inhaling a large amount of smoke and letting it settle before exhaling it with a quiet sigh.

And Dave, too, follows suit. His own personal preference leads him to take a shorter drag, opting, instead, for short puffs.

 

* * *

 

"So have we agreed to alternate outings?" Kanaya inquires as she steps into the shop Rose had just entered.

"It seems the safest to me," Rose responds quietly, controlling her vocal volume so as to not draw much attention. Too quiet will seem suspicious; too loud is just... a bad idea. Still when she finishes, she picks up an old map of Ward 12. $25. Not too shabby. Far too high of a cost for her, though...

Kanaya joins in on the browsing. She pulls from a bin a large book filled with pictures of plants. She examines the silver pages and lets forth a quiet hum of thought. "This would certainly be an interesting thing to use as a sculpture," she comments. "Nice pages. Even sides. Cut it all down and you'd have an ideal start."

"Mhm." Rose nods. She trots up to Kanaya and glances over her shoulder. "Karkat likes doing those, doesn't he?"

Kanaya smirks. "Not sure why. He get so aggressive that they tend to end up choppy and rough," she snickers.

"Dave does the same thing with drawing." She, too, responds with a wry grin. "So, what? You still betting against them?"

"I don't think Dave has the gumption to ask Karkat out."

"And I think that Karkat will be the one to initiate the affair."

Their voices are hushed, quieted to the point that only they can hear one another. Still, the mischievous smiles on their faces make it undeniable that something is going on. Not that anyone is paying much attention; they are, after all, the only ones in the store.

However, when the bells hanging in front of the door ring, the two begin discussing something else.

"Dinner tonight?" Rose asks as she studies an ugly trinket—an agglomerate of foil sealed and bound together so as to look like something like an unholy cross between a rabbit, an antelope, a frog, and a rat. She turns it around and glances at the price tag on the aluminum base. $5.

And, as Rose looks at this oddity, Kanaya approaches from behind. A snort of laughter escapes her. "Dear God," she mutters, "What sort of cursed eyesore is that?"

Rose, too, snickers. She pulls from her pocket the amount on the tag and replies as she approaches the front desk. "Hideous, isn't it? My half-brother will love it."

"Then he has some awful taste."

"He really does. I have to agree."

 

* * *

 

"Motherfucking shit," Karkat groans as he stares at Dave's new trinket. "Why...? Why would anyone make this?"

"Because they were bored as hell," Dave replies defensively. "Look, I get it. And you might as well make whatever the fuck you want."

"Please don't display that up here."

"No one fuckin' comes up here. We're not even supposed to be here, jackass."

" _I have to live here, Strider_."

"So do I. Might as well add some character."

Karkat lets forth a loud, irritated sigh. He buries his face in his hands and mutters curses against every deity he can think of.

And Dave, all the more enthralled by Karkat's complete rejection of his style, begins to loudly ponder where to place his newfound treasure. "Perhaps," he muses, "I should put it on a pedestal. Illuminate it as if the light of heaven itself shines upon my beautiful biological blasphemy."


	22. Vogel im Kafig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm cheating again this is from the attack on titan soundtrack fuckin sue me funimation  
> [uwu](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x321vnb)

When Dave Strider wakes, it's as impossible as ever to know what time it is. No windows let outside light through and none of clocks in the room seem to work. Still, somehow, he gets the feeling that he's slept for most of the day—that it's nighttime. Still, he wakes to find Karkat sitting at the foot of his mattress on the floor. "You... What're you doing awake?"

Karkat remains silent.

"Hey... C'mon, dude, at least tell me what's up..."

A few more moments of tense silence precede the eventual reply. "I'm leaving."

"What?" Dave sputters. "No. Nah. This is one shitty fuckin' joke, dude."

"It's not a joke." Karkat shrugs. He backs away and folds his arms across his chest. "There's nothing more I can do here."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"M'kay."

Dave frowns. "You're not going to object to that?" he pouts. "You're supposed to be all, 'Oh! No! Don't do that!'"

"You're a stubborn shithead." Karkat shrugs. "I'm not fighting that."

"Fair enough." Dave shrugs. He stumbles to his feet and gathers a few things—his glasses, some food, and what little money he'd scrounged from his surroundings.

 

* * *

 

Two notes are tied to the grate of the elevator which faces out to the alleyway. One is written with angular strokes of a grey pen. The other is penned in fairly standard, if not a bit sloppy, red ink..

 

> _Kanaya,_
> 
> _I should probably say something meaningful considering how likely it is that I'll get my ass killed at some point during the coming however many days or weeks or whatever. But I won't. It's been fun, I guess. And by "it," I mean "knowing you and existing" and all the fucking bullshit that comes as part of the latter._

The second note, like the first, is just as unsentimental...

 

 

> _rose,_
> 
> _i'm going with karkat. if i die give john that sculpture thing you dropped off last night i'm sure he'd love it._

 

* * *

 

"What's the plan?"

Karkat frowns. He slows to a stop and glances over his shoulder at Dave, who straggles behind a few steps. "No fucking clue."

"Hm." Dave shoves his hands into his pockets and glances up at the grey, overcast sky. He pushes his glasses back up to hide his eyes and, with an unreadable expression, he continues, "You think we'll actually die?" As he finishes, he stops just behind Karkat.

And Karkat, in reply, scowls. He runs his fingers through his hair and breathes a long, disinterested sigh. "How would I know? I can't foresee the motherfucking future, Strider."

"Well, if we're going to die, will you call me something other than 'Strider' just once?"

For a few minutes, Karkat feigns deep thought. At the end, though, he answers quite simply. "No."

Dave rolls his eyes. "Fuckin' asshole," he mutters.

Karkat, in return, smirks. He tugs at the fabric covering his left leg until his foot is in a more reasonable position on the footrest. "Who do you think did it?"

"I don't know shit about rich people problems," admits Dave, shrugging. "If it  _is_ your dad, how do you feel about... You know?"

Karkat shrugs before wheeling ahead once more. He makes a point out of not answering Dave's question. Instead, he poses his own. "You don't have enough money to cover inn stays, do you?"

"Nope."

"Then I guess we'll be doing some city camping."

"Seems like it..."

 

* * *

 

Rose Lalonde sighs as she crumples the note she found on the alley grate into a small wad and shoves it into her pocket. She glances over at Kanaya, who still seems preoccupied with her note. "Well... It would've happened eventually."

"Oh, certainly," Kanaya nods. She, too, sighs. "I'm just wondering if this was too soon."

Rose shrugs. "I'm more concerned about the implications of putting those two together and giving them important decisions to make."

"Karkat usually has a pretty level head," points out Kanaya as she folds her own note and stashes it away in her jacket pocket. "Not that he can't be influenced."

"And Dave can make... questionable... decisions," admits Rose.

An odd silence falls between the two. After a while, however, Kanaya speaks up. "So, I guess we have more time to investigate their former living space?"

A spark of intrigues lights in Rose's eyes. She smirks. "Do you think we could decipher the meaning of the mystery room, Kanaya?"

"With our newfound free time, I'm certain we can."

 


	23. Invasion of Kushana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/nausicaa-valley-wind-original/id881802202) can't find the actual track online but this one's from nausicäa

"Hey. Hey. You little bastard. Wake up."

Dave Strider frowns.

_That voice... It's impossible... It's been years..._

He opens his eyes and, despite his own reassurance, finds himself staring at a man with facial features that near-perfectly mirror his own. Thick blond sideburns stick from either side of the man's face and a grey cap covers most of his hair. His eyes are hidden behind triangular tinted glasses and fingerless black gloves cover his hands. Piss yellow sweat stains spot his plain white shirt.

"Bro?" Dave frowns. He sits up and, for some reason, looks to his left.

His gaze falls upon a rectangular area of lumpy, haphazardly replaced dirt. A rotting wooden sign staked into the ground near its top offers an explanation for its existence. "Karkat Vantas." Nothing more adorns the makeshift grave marker. No niceties or acknowledgements of the friends he'd made during his life. And, for some reason, Dave just accepts this.  _"Yes,"_ Dave's mind says,  _"This is just how it is."_

"The factory called," the man at the foot of his bed speaks up, calling Dave's attention away from the misplaced plot of land. "It's your shift."

A red factory jumpsuit lands in Dave's lap. Again, despite never once setting foot into a factory as a worker, Dave unquestioningly accepts this. He pulls on the uniform and trots out the door of his old home. He winds his way down the streets until he arrives at the factory nearest his house. As he looks at it, however, he notices that something about it is... different... It's... Was it always this small?

He shakes his head, reassures himself that it's just nonsense, and steps inside.

Immediately, an unseen hand grabs him by the shoulders. He's pulled down a hallway—a hallway far longer than it should have been for such a small building—until he comes to a stop in front of a standard set of gallows. Still, he doesn't debate his position. He simply trots up the stairs and watches with unnatural indifference as a crowd slowly forms before him. He picks out the faces he knows. There's Rose, Kanaya, and John... Sollux... Jade...

He sighs. A black hood is haphazardly thrown over his head...

 

* * *

 

"Lovely. That was... Lovely..." Dave Strider mutters. He frowns and, for a moment, wonders why the room is so cold. Why can he feel rain soaking through his clothing? Oh...

He opens his eyes and looks around. He glances at Karkat, who's fallen asleep sitting in his chair, and stares at the measly pile of old newspapers he presumably used as a bed. He sighs, stumbles to his feet, and takes off his thoroughly soaked coat. Then, he nudges Karkat by the shoulder. "It's raining."

Karkat stirs slightly. He looks up at Dave. He unlocks the brakes on his chair and frowns. "Shit," he mutters. "Shit," he repeats, a bit louder this time. His gaze falls upon Dave and, after a few moments, he removes his black leather jacket and throws it at his travel companion. "You look like a wet blanket, Strider."

"Hm...?" Dave glances at the jacket in his hands and hesitantly puts it on. He throws his own wet jacket over his shoulder. "Thanks, jackass..."

"You hungry?" Karkat inquires as he begins to wheel himself forwards.

And Dave, as he follows, thinks about his answer for a moment. As if to solidify his answer, his stomach growls. "Yeah... You?"

"Same."

A long, drawn-out sigh. "I don't have money..."

"I do." Karkat sighs and reaches into a pouch tied to one of the handles of his chair. From this, he pulls a fistful of loose change. He shakes it around in his palm and counts it. "Not much, though," he admits. "What can we get for ten dollars?"

"Around here? A lot." Dave shrugs. He nods towards a run-down coffeehouse to the left. "Here's something."

With a huff of agreement, Karkat redirects his route to include this new location.

Inside, it's a fairly warm and homey area. The walls are made of shining oak wood and iron chandeliers with gently flickering candles light the small area.

When the pair arrive, they're greeted by a squat little man with a green bowler. He seats them near the window and takes their order. A short while later, he returns with two plates. There's Dave's plate—eggs and bacon; and, then, there's Karkat's—a singular pancake topped by a small square of butter. A small divot in the center of the square gives the impression that the drizzled syrup on top was like lava flowing from an oddly shaped volcano.

And, for a few minutes after breakfast arrives, the two remain silent. Eventually, though, Dave speaks up.

"So, what? You thought of any plans?"

"In the last twenty-something hours?" Karkat grumbles as he stabs his fork into his meal. "Nope. Probably just going to take out my father or Cronus. Whoever it is who ordered the hit."

"And if you're wrong?" Dave mutters.

Karkat shrugs. "They're both assholes."

"Harsh."

"They hate me," says Karkat matter-of-factly. He takes another bite of his breakfast before glancing at Dave. "Why? Are you here to give me some sort of morality spiel?"

"Not really."

"Fucking great."

Dave nods slowly. He prods at the yolk of his egg—a small sliver of faint yellow covered by a thin layer of white. The liquid within suddenly begins to stream gently forth onto his plate, and he jumps. "Oh. Shit." He frowns and a look of marked disappointment crosses his face. "Well... That sucks."

"What?" Karkat asks, quirking his brow in confusion.

"I don't know. I just like having the yolk last." Shrugging, Dave cuts off small bits of the remaining egg white to create a small wall to contain the flowing yolk. After he's completed this odd task, he smirks. "There. Fixed it."

In return, Karkat rolls his eyes. Still, the edges of his lips turn to form a bemused grin. "You're really fucking strange, you know."

"Oh, yeah," Dave agrees wholeheartedly. "Yeah. I know." He pauses, downs a few massive forkfuls of egg, and smirks. "Thanks for the jacket, I guess. It's not the right size. Arms are a little short for me... so is the length, too, actually."

Karkat shrugs. "Last time I checked, I'd be a shitty five and a half feet tall. You're, what? Six foot? Of course it's not the right size."

"No need to get all defensive about it," Dave snickers. He gathers his own wet coat in his arms and approaches the fireplace in the back of the building. Holding the wet clothing before the heat, he continues, "And I'm a little over six feet tall. Technically, you're... What? Four and a half?"

Karkat shrugs off the commentary. "Yeah. Whatever." He shoves his now-empty plate to the middle of the table and looks at Dave expectantly. "You done eating yet?"

 

* * *

 

Kanaya Maryam wakes to find Rose's body pressed against her back. Pale arms wrap loosely around her. She yawns, gently nudges Rose away, and rises from bed to begin breakfast. From her pantry, she pulls a few ingredients for some bread rolls.

About halfway through, the squeaking of the floorboards alerts her to someone's presence. "You're up early."

Rose shrugs. She pulls out one of the chairs at the round dining room table and lets forth a long sigh. "I feel like I should be following Dave to make sure he's not doing anything stupid..."

"Karkat should keep him in line," Kanaya snickers. "He's more responsible than he looks."

Rose smirks. She folds her arms across her chest and tips her seat back a few inches. "Surprisingly, Dave is, too. The problem there is that he doesn't look anywhere near responsible to begin with."

"True."

"I'd give them a few more days. If we haven't heard any outrageous news by then..."

"Oh," Rose interjects, rolling her eyes, "We'll definitely hear something by then."

"Well, until then, why not investigate their old room some more?"

"That does sound like a fascinating plan..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "why are you so bad at checking over your writing before posting????"  
> playing d&d real life like "roll for attention span"  
> [rolls a -52 on a d20]


	24. The World of the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://tidido.com/a35184372109153/al54071a2b196deee83f8da95c/t54080747196deede789039bd) from mononoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes dishonored [big fuckin boom] and fuck it why not i'll just leave my fucking weeb trash here

Karkat Vantas finds himself in the middle of a sprawling field. The sky above him is occupied by large, dark, swirling clouds and the grass stretching out before him is blood red.

Not the worst place he's ever dreamed of...

A spark of light catches his eye and draws his gaze downwards, towards an odd iron rune at his feet.

Naturally, he picks it up. He flips it over in his hands for a few minutes before it begins to glow.

 The world beneath him crumbles. Chunks of earth and soil float upwards, towards the center of the cloud vortex. Once all the debris has gathered, the clouds shift to form a massive eye whose gaze is all-encompassing.  And, from this entity's swirling pupil, there comes a voice. A deep, powerful voice whose presence brings forth a sense of timelessness. "Knight of Blood," the voice rumbles through the vast, empty abyss.

Karkat, meanwhile, shrugs. By now, he's fairly certain that this is just another off-the-wall dream. Some wild concoction of his mind to fill the void of existence that is his sleep. "Yeah," he mutters dismissively, "Cool. This is fucking wonderful and shit, but can we hurry it up? I'd like to dream about something other than... whatever this is."

"I am The Outsider," the voice responds. "And you are the heir of a great power. The power of blood."

A small shrug. With a long sigh, Karkat folds his arms across his chest. He quirks his brow inquisitively. "Great. Get on with it."

"I grant to you the power of both creation and destruction to do with as you please. Limited only by your own energy, you may now heal or harm others as you please."

When the voice falls silent, a mark appears on the back of Karkat's hand. It's an odd symbol resembling a slash from which three lines of blood run. Still, he remains unimpressed. "Fucking fantastic. Now, whatever the hell you are, get out of my head."

"As you command."

 

* * *

 

With a loud snap, Karkat Vantas returns to reality. The sights and sounds around him seem indicative of a weaponry shop. Guns are displayed in glass cases which line the walls. Swords hang from the ceiling and stick from decorative display pillows. And Dave stands before the counter at the back. He studies a fairly short sword—a blade only about the length of his forearm with a plain handle. Black leather is wound about the grip.

"How much?" Dave inquires.

The shopkeeper responds with some seemingly shbstantial amount. At least, that's what Karkat assumes from the sudden schmoozer smile. And the finger guns. People normally don't do fiber guns during casual purchases...

Eventually, though, Dave succeeds. He shakes hands with the shopkeeper and takes from the shelf the single-edged blade. He makes quick work out of adjusting the belt to fit over his shoulder before sheathing the weapon. With this done, he approaches Karkat.

"What the fuck did you promise the shopkeeper?"

"A piece of my sweet, sweet ass," Dave shoots back. His reply comes without hesitation and his tone remains even.

And Karkat, unsure of exactly what to make of this, frowns. "You... What?"

With a dramatic sigh and a shake of his head, Dave clarifies his statement. "I gave 'em a free pass to a tuneup at the shop. Everyone loves those."

"You swapped a fucking watch repair for a sword!?" sputters Karkat.

Dave winks. A sly grin crosses his face. "Threw in a free clock repair, too." He pauses and redirects his gaze to the sky as he continues, albeit at a lower volume, "And about two hundred but..."

"WE DON'T HAVE TWO HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS," Karkat snaps. "What the hell are you doing, Dave!?"

"Trying to keep your ass from turning to grass," shrugs Dave. "It's called a favor. Statistically, we'll die before we can pay back the due."

Karkat lets forth a long, annoyed sigh. He runs his fingers through his hair before following Dave outside and into the street.

 

* * *

 

"Knight of Time."

Dave stares up at the sky above him. Flames light the vast expanse. And, amidst these flames of gold and red, a giant eye is defined in blue. It stares at him, boring through him like a spear. Still, he remains silent.

"I am The Outsider."

Dave nods slowly. He buries his hands in his pockets and looks down. He realizes that he's standing atop nothing. Rather, he seems to float amidst a vast void. Still, it doesn't bother him. "Great. Cool. Get a move on."

"Hm." The voice ponders. "You, too, are quite interesting. I grant you the power of Time. The eternal sands of existence are now yours to slow or halt as you wish. You will be limited by only your own energy."

Dave shrugs. He folds his arms across his chest. "Great. Now, can I fuckin' leave?"

A breath of wind. A sigh. The voice continues, "Yes. Go forth and spread what you wish."

 

* * *

 

"This is an odd book."

Kanaya frowns. She rises from her spot in the corner of the library and wanders over to Rose. Glancing over her shoulder, she smirks. She quirks her brow inquisitively. "Certainly, it is..."

Rose nods. "Something about ancient Skaian myth, it seems..." She flips through the pages. "Accounts of ancient sacrifices and ritualistic killings..."

As the pages turn, Kanaya studies the images. Diagrams of human bodies in geometric poses and segmented into separate pieces. Runes and symbols of unknown meaning. Then, something catches her eye. She grabs Rose's hand. "That..."

Rose, by now, is visibly blushing. Still, she looks at the part of the page to which Kanaya's finger is pointing.

It appears to be a chart. The lines are inked in black and the labels have long since faded. What hasn't faded, however, is a myriad of notes in small handwriting done in blood red ink. The words are indecipherable.

"This is certainly... Puzzling," Rose admits.

"What could it mean?" Inquires Kanaya.

"I have no idea... Perhaps John or Jade would know..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (surprise the weeb trash was fullmetal fuckin alchemist)


	25. Mononoke Hime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [from the budokan concert (look how happy he is such a happy man)](https://youtube.com/watch?v=bCM3clq-_c0)

The inside of Jade Harley's home is nothing less than chaotic. Plants of all sorts—including those believed to have long since died out—are set upon the shelves. Herbs and spices give the air a heavy, overpowering scent. Vapors leak from glass flasks set atop moss-covered tables and a rusted iron furnace heats the entire space, maintaining within the home a humid atmosphere.

Thick leather-bound books are stacked in scattered places. Their pages are damp, though, judging by the few open ones, they're perfectly legible. Sheet music sticks from rectangular bins fashioned of corrugated metal and wooden boards. Pages of notes scribbled in bright green ink line the walls, bound to the peeling plaster and remnants of wallpaper with a thick, green, and presumably all-natural paste—one small, finger-sized dot per corner. And, amidst all this chaos, Jade is perched upon the tattered frame of an office chair. Snips of embroidery thread of various colors are tied about her fingers and, when the door opens, she spins the chair around to face the door. Her characteristic grin spreads across her face. "Rose! You didn't tell me you were going to visit!"

Rose, in response, nods. She pulls from her bag the book she and Kanaya had found in the library and approaches her friend. "Well, it's an unexpected affair. Kanaya and I..."

Jade holds her hand up to stop Rose before nodding at the woman still standing in the doorway. "And I assume Kanaya is..."

The woman, too, nods. She smiles serenely. "I'm Rose's girlfriend. And investigative partner. We've been trying to decipher the origins of an old library above the floor I purchased as my home. However, we happened across something stranger..."

Here, Rose presents the book to Jade. "Something about an ancient mythological figure named The Outsider."

Having eagerly grabbed the tome, Jade rifles through the pages. Her eyes, from behind thick round spectacles, scan the text. She chews on her lip and rubs the eraser end of the pencil in her hand against the desk in front of her. "I've read something about this before... I've never actually seen anything modern that references it, though." She pauses, wrestles a stack of paper from its place between two bags of fertilizer, and draws a series of symbols. An eight-toothed gear. A sun. A strange squiggle of a line surmounted by a spiral. A set of six concentric crescents, each of which have a singular point that meets at the center.

"From what I know," Jade elaborates, pointing the graphite tip to each of the freshly sketched icons, "There are many powers associated with The Outsider. These are the few I know of." One by one, she goes through the images. "Time. Light. Breath. Space. Every person is associated with one of these aspects and there might be others. I just don't know about the others. Anyways, the whole idea of The Outsider is to cause chaos."

"So one could supposedly call this Outsider a demon...?" proposes Kanaya.

Jade shakes her head. "No. No, the entity is neutral. Neither good nor evil."

Rose nods slowly. "A trickster god?"

"Yes! Yeah!" comes Jade's enthusiastic response. "Exactly! That's exactly it! a trickster god!"

"So, a more destructive version of John?" asks Rose, a small smirk gracing her lips.

"Eh... Kind of. I don't know too much about it so..."

At this point, Kanaya pulls herself away from the budding purple flowers she'd been studying. "Is this something we should be worried about?"

"Well, The Outsider supposedly appears when there's political turmoil and grants powers to those deemed able to cause the most chaos. If I'm evaluating this right, that'd basically be Karkat and Dave." Jade shrugs. Her eyes fall upon Kanaya. "Don't get too close to those. Smell great but make you puke up your insides. Unpleasant experience."

"Oh." Kanaya eyes the plant once more and steps aside to place distance between her and the apparent poison. "If this is true, would you happen to know what sort of powers either would be granted?"

"Dave is time," Jade retorts without hesitation. As if to further confirm this theory, she nods. "Time has to do with existence itself. People who tend to go with the flow are most often connected with it." She pauses and returns to tapping her pencil against the desk. "There's one other aspect, but I've never seen its symbol. It's mentioned as 'blood' in some writings."

"So, what about Karkat?" Kanaya inquires.

"I don't know him well enough to say." Jade shrugs. "Sorry."

"Oh, no, it's fine. Thank you," Rose interjects. "Would Dave's aspect have anything to do with being a watchmaker?"

"Totally. It's a funny idea at least."

Kanaya's green tinted lips quirk into a small grin. "Well.. Yes... It certainly is..."

"Exactly! Now, if you want to, you're welcome to stay for some tea."

"Sounds wonderful." Both Kanaya and Rose offer approving nods.

And Jade, making no attempts at hiding her enthusiasm, trots over to a circular table covered in various shades of moss. "Don't worry. It's all non-toxic. I've eaten it all."

"You... Ate it?" Kanaya frowns.

"Quickest and cheapest way to figure out if it'll kill you, right?"

"Yes. Probably not the safest..."

Jade shrugs. She pulls some cups from a metal wire basket nearby and distributes them. "So, how are Dave and Karkat doing?"

"We're not sure," admits Kanaya. "We've decided to let them try and be responsible adults on their own, though."

"You know," mutters Rose, "Now that you've said that out loud, it seems like a terrible idea..."

"We can always intervene if the necessity arises."

Jade offers a small smile. "Well, knowing Dave, you'll be going after them eventually."

Rolling her eyes, Rose lets forth a quiet snicker of laughter. "My thoughts exactly."

 

* * *

 

"Dave... Where the fuck did you get that sword?" Karkat frowns. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets forth a long, loud sigh of defeat. "You couldn't have gotten that legally..."

"Oh, I assure you, I did not," Dave acknowledges his crime proudly. From the brown leather scabbard in his hand, he draws a fairly long double-edged sword. "I knocked out a security guard and took it from him."

"Dave! You absolute chucklefuck!" Karkat groans.

"What? I don't see a problem." With this said, Dave passes the sword to Karkat. "Try it. It's pretty light. Has good range. Seemed like a great fit for you."

"For me?" The reply is thick with exasperated skepticism. "I'm not thick-headed enough to charge into a gunfight with a fucking sword!"

Dave frowns. He shakes his head. "No. No no no. You don't charge. You lay low and hit from behind." Here, he pauses. He pulls from his pocket a thick-bladed dagger with blunted edges. "And you use this to block."

"You've lost your fucking mind, Strider!"

"No, I've got great ideas." Dave takes a step back and draws his own sword. He points it at his travelling companion and offers a wide, cocky grin. "Blades are so much easier to handle than guns. Much quieter, too."

Another sigh—longer and more desperate than the last. "We're dead. Our asses are going to be the new gilded trophies over the family fireplace."

" _Heeeeey_ ," Dave draws out the word and throws his arm over Karkat's shoulder. "Don't sweat it, dude."

"I'm on a life-or-death mission with a completely clueless bastard," Karkat sighs in reply. "Wonderful."


	26. Annihilation of Pejite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaCHOLR9Yzw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i say "walls" i mean attack on titan style big fuckin circle with smaller and smaller circles until you get to ward 1

Karkat Vantas finds himself leaning against the stone wall between Ward 11 and Ward 12. He stretches his arms above his head and yawns before positioning his legs as straight out in front of him as they will go. "How're you doing with the chair, Dave?"

"Fuck you," is the sharp, frustrated response from Dave. After a few moments of quiet scratching noises from beneath the wall, Dave worms his way out from the naturally formed gap beneath the wall. Once he's worked his way through, he reaches back through the gap and pulls through one of the wheels. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Enjoying what?" Karkat chides, smirking. "You, all hot and sweaty and pissed off? Covered in dirt and worms and grass? Doing my dirty work? Nah. Not at all. This is just fucking awful entertainment. Minus a good few points because there's no fucking drink or food to go with it." A genuinely content but pointedly sarcastic sigh escapes him as he folds his hands behind his head. His smirk grows wider. "You're almost there, though, you piece of shit. Just one more wheel and the back to go."

To this, Dave responds with an irritated snarl. He wipes some of the sweat off his brow with his sleeve before squeezing himself back into the tunnel. "You're a real fuckin' bastard, Karkat."

"Shhh. We don't want to get caught now, do we? Dying in that tunnel would be pretty damned sucky, right?"

"Fuck you," Dave hums.

"Little soon, isn't it? Let's wait to see if we end up dead first."

After a few moments of silence, Dave reemerges. By this point, he's managed to shove the backrest and the final wheel up through the hole. "Fuckin' bullshit." Huge, wet clumps of dark down—nearly black—soil fall from his hands as he wipes them against his knees. He approaches Karkat and, with a tired huff, takes a seat beside him. "Why do I like you, you fuckin' asshole?"

"I'm a lovable guy," Karkat shrugs.

"Yeah. Whatever." With a swift, smooth motion, Dave whips off his tinted glasses. He folds the arms and shoves them into his pocket before glancing at the man beside him. "I guess you expect me to put this thing back together, too?"

"I'm not that shitty." The response is accompanied by an insincere pout. "I can probably put it back together faster than you can. Just give me the pieces."

"How kind of you." Dave rolls his eyes and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. He spreads it out on the ground and dumps a pocketful of bolts and screws atop it before wandering over to the disassembled chair. From each individual part—two wheels, a seat, a backrest, and the partially detached braking system—he forms a stack which he drops in front of Karkat. "There you go, jackass. Blow me away with your fuckin' mechanical intuition."

"I was just saying that most of these are made the same way." Shrugging, Karkat pulls off his coat and pushes up the dirtied white sleeves of his shirt.

 

* * *

 

As he lowers himself into the freshly reassembled seat, Karkat Vantas lets forth a sigh of relief. "How fucking amazing. Back to not being stuck in one place."

Dave, by now, has assumed the position formerly occupied by Karkat. He sits in the shade of the wall with his arms folded across his chest and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. As he opens his eyes, a brilliant reddish brown is visible. "Well, you did that in about... I'd say ten minutes..."

"Twenty minutes less than it took you to pull this through," Karkat responds with a smug grin. "Are we going to have to do that every time we go from Ward to Ward?"

"No. It's only up until Ward 9. Hunting wards are apparently real damned big with all the rich people. They'd throw a fuckin' fit if they couldn't come and go whenever they wanted." A sudden pause... Dave's gaze shifts suddenly, locking upon a point in the distance. As if it will help him see through the tall grass in front of them, he squints. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"It sounds like..."

A sudden rustling of the grass precedes the appearance of a man wielding a shotgun. "Who the fuck're you all and why are you on my property?"

"We're just travelers. Nothing to see here, sir," Dave sputters.

"Exactly," corroborates an equally unnerved Karkat. "Just average travelers."

The man frowns. His grip on the gun tightens and, without really thinking about it, Dave puts his hands out in front of him. It's a purely instinctual thing—a way for him to form an insubstantial barrier between himself and his opponent. And, as he does this, he takes a step back. He trips on the wheel of Karkat's chair and prepares stumbles a few steps before regaining his balance. Yet, when he's managed to collect his wits about him once more, he finds that the world has frozen around him. The breeze has stopped. The clouds no longer move. In fact, looking around, there only seems to be one other person outside of this strange bubble... "Karkat?"

"What the fuck are you doing!?" is the sputtered reply. "What the hell is this?"

"I... Don't know... It's..." A thought occurs to Dave and he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt. He stares at the odd symbol of an eight-toothed gear on his wrist, only to find that it's emitting a gentle, pulsating white light. "I think it's... Am I the Knight of Time?"

"Does it matter?" Karkat approaches and shoves Dave before speeding off. Despite the world's strangely static state, the blades of grass that he brushes past still move. The recoil and whip back into place, stinging his face. Still, he keeps going until he reaches a dusty dirt road and turns. "Dave...?"

As Karkat speaks, the grass rustles. Dave stumbles forth, chest heaving, and the world seems to return to normal. The gentle breeze resumes and the clouds once again begin to crawl across the sky. "Fuck."

"How did you do that?"

"I don't... know..." admits Dave, staring at his own hands in awe. "I just panicked and... I mean..." He stops himself abruptly and shoves his hands into his pockets before starting to walk purposefully down the road. To be quite honest, he has no idea where he is, but he's determined to brush off his own commentary. "I mean... I didn't panic... Nope. Not a bit. Striders never panic. Nah. Striders just stay cool."

And Karkat, having simply filed the incident away in the back of his mind for the time being, smirks. He wheels forwards to catch up with his friend. "Really? I'd say you were pretty fucking scared. Practically shitting yourself."

"Was not," whines Dave.

"Really? Well, the buckets of sweat you're dripping seems to say otherwise."

"Fuck you. Stopping time is a whole lot of fuckin' work."

"Right," Karkat snickers. "And I'm the Skaian record holder for longest sprint."

"Psh." Dave rolls his eyes and falls silent. He puts up an act of annoyance, though he can't help but smile at the asinine antics. "Aren't we supposed to be blending in?"

"Maybe." Karkat speeds up until he's in front of Dave, turns, and proceeds down the pathway backwards. "I mean, you're one huge jackass, so..." He pauses when Dave hooks his foot around one of the wheels. His gaze settles on the insufferable but somehow enthralling smirk on his face.

"You're about to back yourself into a ditch, and then we'd have  _another_ back injury to attend to, wouldn't we?"

After ripping his gaze away from Dave's lips, Karkat offers an enigmatic shrug. "Whatever, Strider."

 

* * *

 

"Attention, all residents of Skaia..."

Rose freezes. She looks up, towards the source of the voice, and finds herself staring at a massive black and red box suspended by thick cables between several buildings. She's fairly certain this wasn't here yesterday...

"The bounty for Karkat Vantas and Dave Strider has increased. Each is now worth ten million dollars. Should either be captured, their heads can be returned to your local law enforcement offices."

This definitely wasn't here yesterday...

And it sure as hell isn't a good sign...


	27. Morning in Slag Ravine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwvdAo7VSFo) the actual song is a lot longer this is just the trumpet solo shown in the film.......  
>  tbh the rest of the song is also in the film but the trumpet solo is specifically animated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "hi i'm pazu i'm a loser with no friends except for these fuckin pigeons" —[Laputa:] Castle in the Sky

Kanaya's brows furrow, pressing together to form a concerned 'V.' Her eyes lock upon the speaker which dangles a few yards away from the window. "I've never seen these things before... They're... strange..."

"Do you think they imported them from Derse or Prospit?" inquires Rose.

"It's a possibility," Kanaya admits. "It seems to run on whale oil, so I'd bet it's from Prospit. They're the closest to the sea..." A loud, thoughtful sigh escapes Kanaya as she turns her back to the object. She folds her arms across her chest and toys with a few strands of her curly black hair. "Regardless, this development is concerning."

"I'd say it warrants a field trip."

"Yes. I have to agree... We should try and catch up with Dave and Karkat..."

Rose nods. She pulls the curtains shut and paces back and forth across the tiled kitchen floor. "There's rumors of two strange men appearing in a farmer's field in Ward 11. And there's even stranger rumors of certain people saying that time simply stopped for a few minutes... The farmer who found them backs up the claim, as he purportedly saw them disappear into thin air."

"Time..." The word escapes Kanaya as more of a sigh. "Jade said that Dave would control time, right?"

"Mhm. And it seems as if he's managed to somehow contact the forces governing these powers."

"Your half-brother made a deal with a trickster god?" Kanaya asks, raising a brow.

Rose, in return, shrugs. "Perhaps he was approached unexpectedly. It might not have been a deal. Still, I wouldn't put it past him to do something like that. I'm more concerned as to why Karkat wasn't given any powers."

"Yes... He's the more politically influential of the two, right? Why, then, is he not exhibiting any sort of odd abilities?"

After a moment of silent thought, Rose tips her chair back a few inches. "He might not know how to use his own powers... Or he hasn't needed to."

"Perfectly sound reasoning." A small but elegant grin spreads across Kanaya's face. "So, you ready to go on an adventure?"

"With you?" responds Rose. "Of course. Any time."

"I trust you are capable with some sort of weapon."

"Daggers are my specialty," Rose boasts. "Dave got them for me as a birthday gift a while back. Thin, sharp blades meant for precise piercing. You?"

"I prefer a good chainsaw. Seeing as we don't have that, though, I'd rather use a two-handed blade."

A wry grin works its way onto Rose's face. "Well, then, I think I know exactly where to get that..."

 

* * *

 

The rain is relentless. It pounds against the ground, beating the hard dirt pathway into little more than a swampy glue. The mud grows thicker with each passing hour and, despite a good amount of hardheaded determination, Karkat eventually slows to a halt.

"I'm not getting anywhere in this," he admits as he discards his thoroughly soaked and undoubtedly ruined gloves.

Dave, in return, frowns. He turns to face Karkat and trots back to meet him. "You sure?"

"I'm stuck, jackass." To demonstrate, Karkat attempts to move forwards. The wheels turn only slightly before squelching in the thick mud. "You can keep going, but I've got nothing."

A low growl. Dave pinches kicks up a sizable clump of mud. "Fine. Let's just try to find somewhere worthwhile to stay for now."

"What don't you understand about 'stuck?'"

"Leave it," Dave grumbles. "We can come back for it." He approaches Karkat and offers his hand.

And the gesture is reluctantly accepted. Karkat is lifted up and onto Dave's back. He watches as Dave heaves the chair out of the mud and drags it behind him. "Hey, Strider, watch it with that."

Dave responds with a rough grunt. He scans the horizon and notices a small opening beneath some rocks. He stumbles forward through the slick, swampy ground until he reaches the destination—a small, shallow cave. After assessing the space and deeming it to be sound enough to serve as shelter, he pulls Karkat's chair through the opening. "Ow. You can't find any way to get down that isn't ripping off my skin?"

"I can't help that you're a wimp, Strider," Karkat shrugs as he positions himself in his chair. "Still, as much as I hate to say it, I guess I have to fucking thank you for getting us somewhere where it's not the damned rain apocalypse."

A distant rumble of thunder. A flash of lightning.

The sound of wind whistling past the cave entrance fills the silence.

Eventually, though, it's broken by Dave. "We'll probably be sleeping here," he comments as he settles down beside Karkat, his back pressed to the cave wall. "This storm doesn't look like it'll be going anywhere any time soon."

"Hm..." Karkat frowns. He folds his arms across his chest and closes his eyes. "You want to make this a date?"

Despite his best efforts to contain it, Dave responds with a snort of laughter. "Here? In this fuckin' cave?"

"Why not?" Karkat shrugs. "It's just like a shitty motel. Put up a few photos and throw in a bug-infested bed..."

The commentary is met with a snicker. "Ugly lamps?"

"Of fucking course. It's not a goddamned awful motel without hideous light fixtures, right?" Cracking open one eye, Karkat glances at Dave. Right now, he knows that Dave is sure that he isn't being watched. So, while he can, he enjoys the genuine grin on Dave's face. "Why don't we start a new business venture. Cave camping. Rent out a cave to some rich piss stain and overcharge them out the ass?"

"Sounds like a great idea to me, dude."

"Well, then, if we don't end up dead, we might just do that."

"Yeah, whatever," Dave snickers as he rolls onto his side and yawns. "Great idea, Vantas. Fan-fuckin'-tastic."

Karkat, in return, nods. He pulls off his jacket and tosses it over Dave before once again closing his eyes.


	28. Shohmyoh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay fine this is from akira and it's by geino yamashirogumi [uwu](https://soundcloud.com/kindbirthhahn/shohmyoh)

Somewhere deep within the heart of Skaia—in the center of Ward 1—there’s a commotion. A frantic stampede of officials and socialites pouring forth from massive doors made of gilded gold. Panic. Absolute and inescapable chaos.

Blood is smeared like paint throughout the capital building. The streets are littered with money and clothing and various tidbits discarded in the uproar. And, in the midst of it all, there is a man with a voice that can calm even the maddest mob and reassure even his most hated enemies.

“All residents of Skaia: this is an announcement. Former president Wilford V. is dead. However, hope is not lost. I, the senior patriarch of the esteemed Vantas family, have been decreed ruler as per the late president’s final will and testament. As of today, know that anyone caught aiding Karkat is to be deemed a traitor of Skaia. The newly appointed Vantas administration thanks you sincerely for your cooperation and I, as your new president, look forward to guiding this nation to a lustrous tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Rose and Kanaya stand before the gate between Ward 12 and Ward 11 as the announcement blasts from the overhead speakers. Both stare at one another in shock.

“I assume this is from Karkat’s father?” Rose whispers.

Kanaya nods. Her eyes narrow as the audio crackles, then goes silent. “It is… And this certainly doesn’t bode well for our two companions…”

“Agreed…” Folding her hands behind her back, Rose scans the crowd. She notes the generally apathetic reaction. Most people have continued their normal apathetic routine. People still clutch their citizen passes and doze off where they stand in line. “It doesn’t seem that most people here are very concerned.”

“Is this… unexpected?”

“No. No, this is normal. People around here don’t particularly care about the affairs of the most powerful. We’re mostly focused on what impacts us directly.”

“Really?”

Rose nods. She chews her lip thoughtfully before speaking once more. “We need to find them. Quickly…”

There’s no doubt in either of their minds. Their goal is more pertinent than ever.

Kanaya pulls from the pocket of her jade green jacket her wallet. From this, she produces her identification card. “Hey! Let me through!”

A commotion ripples through the crowd.

Kanaya speaks louder. “Let me through! I’m a resident of Ward 1!”

The chaos spreads to the masked Overseers. One of them pushes through the crowd and snatches up the small, reinforced card from Kanaya’s hand. “Verified and acknowledged.”

“No!” snaps the head Overseer, distinguished by the five gold stars pinned to his collar. “Orders are to restrict all traffic. Move them to the front of the line, but do not let them through.”

“Understood.”

Both Kanaya and Rose are shoved forwards. They’re led to the Overseer breakroom—a small area with plush seats located beside the gate. A lower guard is then posted before the door to prevent any attempts at escaping.

“Shit,” comes Rose’s quiet, hissed reaction to the events. “Shit! Fucking shit! Pardon my language.”

“Oh, no, you’re excused,” Kanaya whispers. “Might I join in this?”

“Yes! You may!”

Nodding, Kanaya takes a deep breath in. With the exhale, she lets forth a sharp, pointed utterance of the same obscenity. Then, after pushing some hair away from her face, she regains her usual composure. “My apologies as well.”

“Well, while we’re here…” Rose settles on the sofa and nods at the open spot beside her. “Feel free to take a seat. I have a feeling we’ll be here for a while.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” is Kanaya’s grateful reply as she, too, sits down.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know about David, it’s that he’s quite resilient.”

“I would say the same of Karkat.”

“Then I’ll hope that they can keep themselves in reasonable condition until we can get to them.” A short sigh escapes Rose. “That’s the most we can do, after all…”

“Well, until then…” Kanaya pulls a deck of cards from her pocket. She shuffles them before glancing at her girlfriend. “Do you play poker?”

“I never knew that Ward 1 enjoyed such a shady game. Yes. Of course. I will probably kick your ass, though.” A sly grin accompanies Rose’s response.

And, to this, Kanaya returns her own smirk.

 

* * *

 

Despite the bright new day, Dave and Karkat are understandably disinterested. Despite this, they’ve covered a fair amount of ground. From the cave, Dave assumes they’ve traversed a handful of miles. They’ve passed a myriad of barns and farms—standard, expected scenery for an area so reliant on agriculture. Today, there has been a pointed lack of the usual banter.

Now, though…

As the sun reaches its highest point…

“This isn’t going fast enough.”

Dave frowns. As he’s a few paces ahead of Karkat, he turns and continues backwards. Every now and then, though, he glances over his shoulder to check his path. “What?”

“We’re going too fucking slow,” Karkat growls. “Look, if my father really _has_ taken over the government, we’re fucking screwed. The entirety of Skaia is screwed. He’s been looking to do this for years.”

“Well, what’s the worst he can do?”

Karkat skids to a stop. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “No. You don’t understand. You don’t fucking get it. He’s going to kill us and turn Skaia into a fucking hellhole.”

“How?”

“Crime. He’ll make crime the most profitable thing in the world.” A huff of frustration escapes Karkat as he once again wheels forward. “I… There’s got to be somehow to get to Ward 1 faster.”

Dave shrugs. He turns so that he’s once again facing forwards and stops until Karkat’s caught up with him. “There’s an underground system. They used to use it instead of the train…” Another shrug. “It’s just a myth, though, and it’s probably filled with creeps by now.”

“Well, what’s worse? Some creeps or a fucking dystopia?” inquires Karkat.

After pausing for dramatic effect, Dave answers. “Some creeps.”

“Exactly.”

“But I’ve only ever heard of it… I have no idea where we’d get in or if it’s even still in operation… They supposedly shut it down years ago after safety concerns about people falling onto the tracks. Well… That and the fact that there’s a supposedly satanic cult hiding down there and murdering everyone who goes through…

Karkat frowns. His brow furrows. “That’s… unfortunate… But we can’t get around that.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Karkat pauses. He closes his eyes and mutters mostly indecipherable things to himself before shaking his head and glaring at Dave. “The maintenance tunnels. There are maintenance tunnels all through Ward 1. And I’d bet my ass there’s more under all of this fucking country.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“The tunnels are just… there… I never heard of anyone knowing about construction. They’re probably the repurposed transportation network.”

Dave nods slowly. He slips his glasses back on and smirks. “Well, then… I sure did pick a smart one, didn’t I? Look at that brain of yours. Doing work and shit.”

Karkat, too, smiles. Between pushing on the wheels of his chair, he gently punches Dave on the shoulder. “You’re a goddamned dork, Strider.”

“I’m the _coolest_ jerk,” clarifies Dave.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Karkat rolls his eyes. “If I remember correctly, the entrances are in the sewers. I knew a guy who came in from Ward 2 to work down there.”

Dave frowns. He gags a bit before offering a hesitant thumbs up. “So… Into the shit stream?”

“Into the shit stream,” Karkat reaffirms. Despite his serious tone, his smile has yet to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BET U DIDN'T EXPECT THAT DID U?  
> or maybe you did idek


	29. Cliffside Waltz III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/4Gd4gshyw7I/) back to joe hisaishi

“Remind me where you got that rope,” Karkat comments as Dave cuts him free of their improvised pulley system. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t by any legal means, was it?”

Dave offers a guilty half smile and a nonchalant shrug. “It’s a few yards of shitty discount rope. No one’ll miss it too much, right?”

A snap. With a few more haphazard slashes of his sword, the remainder of the rope—the portion secured around the handles of Karkat’s chair and strategically laid out across the bottom—falls away. It splashes into the water surrounding them. The decision to not pursue it further is unanimous. Neither Dave nor Karkat are particularly thrilled by the idea of diving into one foot of sewage, after all…

“Well… If they want it back,” Karkat mutters.

Dave gags. “No one is that desperate.”

“True,” retorts Karkat.

“To be honest…” Dave speaks up after a few minutes of silence. He lags behind Karkat by a considerable amount. Now, if he was to be honest with himself, the reason is because he’s not as apathetic to the idea of wading through human waste and industrial runoff as Karkat. “I stole the rope from a convenience store.”

Karkat shrugs. He stops to lets Dave catch up. “I figured as much. How the fuck else would you have gotten your hands on it unless you pulled it from your ass?”

“Let’s not talk about things that come out of asses for a while, dude,” Dave comments. As he finishes, his shoe squelches against… something. He freezes, leans over, and vomits.

And Karkat responds with a bemused grin.

His boyfriend, however, is considerably less enthusiastic. Rather, after wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Dave shoots a pointed glare at Karkat. “How the hell are you do fuckin’ calm about this? We’re in literal liquefied shit.”

A small shrug. “Everybody poops. Which would include me.”

The blood drains from Dave’s face, making him even paler than usual. He covers his mouth, but the effort goes without reward. He bends over once more…

“Well… I finally found out what gets under the skin of the ever-stoic Dave Strider. Fucking delightful.” Despite the fact that Dave is still a good two yards behind, Karkat decides to begin moving once more. He wipes his hands against his knees to dry them off as much as he can before pushing onwards.

Dave, meanwhile, continues to stumble behind. For once, he remains silent. The only notable sounds that escape from his mouth are occasional gags.

And, while Karkat initially enjoys the silence, it soon becomes unnerving. So, he strikes up a conversation. “Do you actually believe in the satanic cult bullshit?”

“Maybe,” Dave responds after a moment of thought. He utters an obscenity under his breath as his foot sinks into yet another questionable substance. “Do you?”

“Not so sure.”

There’s a sudden commotion—a cacophony of splashes—as Karkat attempts to stop himself. The tires lose traction and, after a few moments, he tips backwards and slides down a fairly minor slope. When he reaches the bottom, he pushes himself back into an upright position.

And Dave, having rushed forwards to catch up, can’t help but stand above him with a smug grin spread across his face. “Well. Everybody poops, don’t they?”

Karkat responds with a snarl. He shakes his head to try and get some of the liquid out of his hair. “Fucking asshole,” he grumbles.

Having had his fill of revenge, Dave pulls off his jacket. He tosses it to Karkat. “Dry off. It’s getting closer to spring, anyhow. We won’t need these coats as much.”

Karkat sighs and begins to wipe himself off. While he’d never admit it, he also takes the opportunity to indulge in Dave’s scent—the aroma of cigarette smoke, old books, and oil which clings to his jacket. “How long do you think we have to go until we can get out of this fucking slop?”

“Not sure.”

“You’re the least helpful bastard I’ve ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with, Strider,” Karkat comments, smirking.

Dave, in return, shrugs again. He offers his own smirk and laces it with a distinct air of aloofness. “That’s pretty damned mean, dude.” His voice is thick with facetious shock. “You dare accuse me, Dave fuckin’ Strider, of being unhelpful? Well, I’m here to tell you that I was awarded a golden fuckin’ star in elementary school for being exceptionally helpful. So helpful that I was ordained a fuckin’ saint.”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You’re the patron saint of being a fuckwad.”

After punching Karkat on the shoulder, Dave buries his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Suck it up, Strider.”

“I’m not too keen on drinking other people’s waste water.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Fine. Fuck you.” Dave pauses. His gaze locks on a door set against the concrete walls. It’s a sturdy but rusted iron portal. Logically, a padlock would have held it shut. However, it’s long since fallen off. In fact, nearby, Dave can see the likely the remains of the lock. “Is that what we’re looking for?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Karkat shrugs. “Let’s open it and see.”

Dave nods. He stumbles out of the water and onto the small pathway on which the door is set before beginning to pry it open. Soon thereafter, Karkat joins him. And, together, they begin to chip away at what is undoubtedly a good deal of rust. With loud, shuddering groans, the door inches open. Bit by bit. Little by little.

And, after what feels like hours, it finally gives way. The hinges break and the door comes crashing to the ground. The two men pulling it manage to escape before they’re crushed beneath the hulking portal.

What meets them is a world of crumbling concrete and marble. Corinthian pillars with massive chunks of missing material support a ceiling embellished with shining multicolored glass. A mosaic. A representation of the nighttime sky…

The walls are just as opulent. Massive, towering surfaces whose marble matches that of the columns. Gold trimmings outline the barrier between the white borders and the black marble decorative squares. Tiny globes topped by dust-covered rubies adorn the ends of gold railings. Stone floors form two platforms on either side of a lowered train platform.

“Holy shit…” Dave is the first to react.

And Karkat follows close behind with his own uttered profanity.

“I never knew something like this was down here…” comments Dave.

“Neither did I…”

“But…” With the lightest steps he can take and the utmost care, Dave creeps towards one of the railings. He brushes some of the dust off of the ornamental orb. “Why? Why would they put something so fuckin’ fancy underneath a farming region?”

Karkat shrugs. He, too, joins Dave. He studies the smooth marble walls. “More importantly… Why didn’t they reuse this? Why not melt down the gold and tear down the marble and recycle it? Ward 1 is constantly flipping their fucking shit about the local marble shortage.”

“This is… Strange…”

A distant clattering—like stone falling and hitting against cement. A low rumble.

Both Dave and Karkat turn to the source of the noise.

The rumblings draws nearer.

“Should we be here…?” Karkat whispers.

“Probably not…” Dave prepares to say more, but his words are caught on the winds generated by a vehicle that rushes down the tracks. They, like the scattered faded papers on the ground, are carried away.

And the vehicle steams onwards as if it was still new. Lights inside of the train cars allow for glimpses of plush velvet seating and opulent golden wood walls. It goes on forever. One car after the other. Each the same as the last until, suddenly it stops. The space falls into an uneasy silence.

Both men stare at one another in shock before eyeing their surroundings once more.

“Where the fuck are we?”  Dave finally utters, breaking the silence.

“Somewhere we’re probably not supposed to be,” comes Karkat’s quiet reply.

 

* * *

 

It’s late at night by the time the gates are opened. When Kanaya and Rose are finally led through, they find the moon at its highest point. Stars dot the sky and the sound of hooting owls is carried on the wind. Before them is a long, winding dirt road. To either side is nothing but mile after mile of farmland. Tall cornstalks and empty fields which await the warmer weather. Towering grass and bales of hay.

“They could be anywhere by now…”

Rose glances at her girlfriend. She nods slowly. “Indeed. And they’re probably moving faster now that they’ve heard the recent news.”

“So, then…” Kanaya sighs. “Where could they have gone?”

A shrug serves as Rose’s reply. She runs her fingers through her hair as she thinks and, after a few moments, she speaks her mind. “Our best idea now is to get to Ward 1 before they do.”

“Agreed.”

“So, then, we should go get some rest. There’s no point in pursuing a pair of mindless dicks until we exhaust ourselves to death, right?”

“Yeah.” After rubbing what remains of her jade lipstick off, Kanaya nods. “And I’ve still got a fair amount of money, so the cost is insubstantial.”

“Well, then…” Rose’s voice trails off as her gaze wanders upwards. She studies the stars above for a few moments before gazing intently at the moon. She breathes in the fresh air of Ward 11 and, after a while, returns her gaze to Kanaya. “It’s so different here… The air’s not as thick.”

“Ward 1 will blow you away, then.” Kanaya offers a wry grin.

And Rose watches as her thick lips form what might just be the damned cutest thing she’s ever seen. In fact, she’s so engrossed with this that she fails to hear the rest of the comment.


	30. Love of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://discos7.com/mp3/_love_of_war_joe_hisaishi.html) from howl's moving castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bonus because this is short

Karkat Vantas wakes to find himself on the smooth stone floor of the underground transit system. Unlike before, the setting is immaculate. The signs which hang above him are clear and free of the grime from before. Foreign names are scrawled across it. North America. Europe. Africa. Asia. None of them are familiar.

Still, that’s not what concerns Karkat.

No, what’s concerning Karkat is the fact that there are two people towering above him. One behind the other. The first is Dave. His coat is torn and tattered and soaked through with blood.

_Is it his?_

And behind Dave is… No… His father is busy trashing Ward 1. No doubt he’s slain a majority of the former government and climbed the mountain of corpses to his throne. Yet, here he stands with a gun in his hand. And the barrel of this gun is aimed squarely upon Karkat.

Two shots.

Dave’s form bursts. It’s a spectacular, horrifying image. A human body bursting like a container filled with paint being hit by a bullet. But, instead of paint, it’s blood. Thick, warm red liquid bursts forth from him. And, at the same time, his father’s form collapses into nothing more than dust.

 

* * *

 

The voice that wakes Karkat from his slumber sounds like Dave’s. But, it’s flat. It’s devoid of personality and feeling. Yet, it’s Dave. It can’t be anyone but Dave. “There’s a fire,” the voice says. “It’s getting pretty close. I say we get moving.”

“What?” Karkat frowns. He opens his eyes and finds himself staring at something as foreign as the voice he’s listening to. Yet, it’s still familiar. The man he’s looking at is undoubtedly Dave. He’s got the same neatly tousled hair and the same slightly crooked in a broken-too-many-times way nose. And, yet, the look on his face is unnervingly rigid. Even for him… “I… Dave?”

The man shrugs. He buries his hands in his pockets and begins walking forwards. “I’m leaving. I’d suggest you do the same.”

“Dave?” Karkat repeats himself before unlocking his brakes and wheeling forwards to catch up. “Dave, what the fuck is going on?”

Whoever it is in front of him—the man claiming to be Dave Strider—continues to walk forwards. Still, he turns to face Karkat as he speaks in the same monotone. “Place is on fire. We’re leaving.”

“We’re underground,” Karkat argues, “It’s going to keep going.”

“Then we keep walking.”

A long, frustrated sigh escapes Karkat as he continues to follow behind this so-called Dave Strider.

And, then, like the smoke which slowly works its way towards them, a suffocating silence forms between them. Its wispy tendrils wrap around Karkat and slowly, inexorably smother him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that was short sorry bout that


	31. Requiem (Nausicäa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://soundcloud.com/biyao216/08-nausicaa-requiem-nausicaa)

It only takes one hit with a fairly sizable chunk of marble to break the glass. And, when it breaks, it shatters. Shards scatter everywhere. Despite the lack of light, what little illumination there is in the underground is caught by the falling glass and reflected as a brilliant array of colors. As vibrant and eye-catching as it is, though, this isn’t the main concern for Dave and Karkat. No, their main concern is the packaged food inside of the machine. Tiny, single-serving bags of chips and snack foods.

“Watch yourself, Strider, we’re running low on medical supplies.”

Dave ignores the comment. He rolls up his sleeve and haphazardly jams his hand through the freshly created opening. He feels a particularly tall shard against his skin as he reaches for a few handfuls of the food; he ignores it. Not surprisingly, this means that the result is a nasty but superficial cut along his forearm in addition to the food. He doesn’t mind this, though. In fact, by the time Karkat notices the injury, Dave has thrown the bags of food he doesn’t want onto the ground and is busy ripping into a dust-covered bag of chips.

“Stale,” he comments after the first few bites. “Still edible, though.”

Karkat, in return, rolls his eyes. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the little bit of remaining gauze. “Dammit, Strider. Give me your arm.”

Seeing no reason to refuse, Dave does as instructed. He tosses the bag of chips to his other hand and offers his injured forearm to Karkat. To compensate for the lack of a hand to pull food from the bag, he simply dumps randomized portions into his mouth. He watches as Karkat’s hands work to rapidly cover the wound. After downing some more chips, he makes an absentminded comment, “You’d make a damned fine doctor.”

“Yeah?” huffs Karkat. “Well, if we don’t die…” While he knows it’s not the most sanitary thing to do, he has no other option. He bites down on the gauze and rips off remaining yard before securing the bandages.

And Dave, now freed from Karkat’s grip, withdraws his arm. He leans over and picks up a bag of what seem to be preserved gummy snacks and tosses it to his boyfriend. “You keep saying that. You really think we’ll die?”

Karkat shrugs. He rips open his bag and smells the contents before reluctantly eating a handful of the tiny, colorful shapes. “I’ll bet my ass that you won’t. I probably will, though.”

The edges of Dave’s lips twitch to form a small frown. “You can fight, though. So what’s the deal with the doom and gloom?”

“Kankri probably won’t be too pleased with the outcome. I’m either murdering our father or taking out his husband.” Again, Karkat shrugs indifferently. He pops a few more of the snacks into his mouth. “Pretty fucking awful outcome either way.”

“Yeah…” Having finished his meal, Dave crumples the empty bag in his hand. He tosses it aside. “We’re pretty far ahead of the fire by now…”

“Should be.” Karkat, too, consumes the remainder of his snack and discards the bag. “What time do you think it is?”

“How would I know?” Dave gathers the remaining bags of food in his arms and stuffs them into his pockets.

The message is received. Karkat unlocks the brakes on his chair and moves forwards.

There’s a comfortable silence filled only by the smallest of sounds. The gentle echoing of Dave’s footsteps. Small, quiet groans which come from Karkat’s chair. A hoarse gasp—the occasional noise of a breath that can’t quite finish.

After a while, though, the silence is broken.

“When I was a kid, I didn’t really like talking that much…”

Karkat frowns. He glances to his left, at Dave. “Surprising. You won’t fucking shut up now, will you?”

Dave snickers. He shrugs. “John’s the one who got me talking more. Until then, I never really thought I had much to say. I mean… Nothing I ever thought of was… It was like my ideas were piles of bullshit, I guess.”

“And you’re telling me this why?”

Another shrug. “Just ‘cause.” In one smooth, fluid motion, Dave leans down and snatches up the remainders of a discarded cigarette butt. He pulls his lighter from his pocket and lights it before pressing it to his lips and taking a few shallow drags. He waves it in Karkat’s direction. “Want a puff?”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Suit yourself.” For a few moments, Dave savors the toxic fumes. As there wasn’t much left to begin with, however, the enjoyment ends quickly. He pulls the tiny remaining bit from his mouth and crushes it beneath the heel of his shoe. “So… What’s your dad like?”

“Real bastard,” Karkat responds shortly.

“And that’s it?”

A long sigh escapes Karkat. He briefly stares upwards, towards the mosaic ceiling, and chews on his lip. “Kankri was always his favorite. That asswipe always was more charismatic than me. More leader-like, I guess. Knew how to hold himself like the most regal piece of human filth to exist…And, then, there was me. The fuck up.”

“Oh…” Dave pulls his gaze away from Karkat and focuses on the path ahead.

“After the whole ransom fiasco, he gave even less of a shit about me. The only thing he gave a damn about was making sure I’d be a good backup for if my brother ever got his ass killed. He gave me the house and did his fucking best to keep me locked there. It was a train wreck where the whole fucking thing went off the tracks and plunged into the most apathetic void to exist.” With this much said, Karkat glances towards Dave. “What about your brother?”

“That asshole? All he ever did was smoke and drink and tell me to shut up.” To punctuate his disdain, Dave waves his hand dismissively. “Fuckin’ deadbeat.”

Karkat nods before slowing to a stop as his gaze settles upon a dusty sign suspended from the ceiling. “Now entering Ward 10,” he reads the text aloud. Unlike the rest of the board, this information is simply scribbled across the surface in bright red. Behind it are foreign names and strange places. Those same odd combinations of letters that were displayed on the board near where they first entered the underground.

“Still a long way to go…”

“Better than trying to fuck around with security, right?”

“Definitely.” Dave nods in agreement. He and Karkat exchange small, cautiously hopeful smiles before coming to a sudden halt.

“Did you hear that, Strider?”

“Sure as hell did…”

The noise comes again from somewhere nearby. The sound of heavy footsteps echoes through the presumably empty space.

 


	32. Sulliman's Magic Square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aU9YJgQrKwc) (the provided link is actually a short looping sample from the [longer selection](https://soundcloud.com/keira-forbidden-lover/15-salimans-magic-square) of _Sulliman's Magic Square_. the looping segment is the summoning chant for the witch of the waste)

It’s over before it ever really begins. Shadow against shadow. A dark figure rushes across an equally dark background. The sounds of a struggle. Something hits Karkat on the shoulder. The world spins and...

…when he wakes up…

Dave is gone.

Where he once stood is now little more than a small amount of blood on the stone floor and his discarded jacket. The food that he had previously stuffed into his pockets is scattered on the ground. The packages have been sliced open and their contents litter the ground. His usual tinted glasses lay amidst the chaos as little more than empty frames. The tinted glass lenses have been smashed, turned to an array of glass shards.

The realization washes over Karkat again… Dave is gone.

No… He can’t be.

Another glance at the scene reveals a trail of blood. A line of sporadic blots of red against slate grey. And the splashes get bigger and bigger as he continues until…

…Karkat lurches back. The wheels of his chair lock and he tilts backwards. He catches himself before he can fall all the way to the floor, but this is mere instinct. His eyes are focused on a disembodied limb—a portion of the lower left arm from what seems to be halfway down the forearm onwards. And, if the pale complexion is anything to go by, it once belonged to Dave…

 

* * *

 

Dave Strider wakes to find himself handcuffed to a steel support beam. He finds that his left arm has been sloppily repaired to the point that it no longer really hurts. The missing portion of his arm has been replaced by a crude fitted bronze base surmounted by a two-pronged hook.

He frowns.

Where the hell is he? What happened…?

He looks around.

The walls are covered in wallpaper. That’s already a tipoff. Wallpaper is expensive as hell; he has to be in the upper three Wards to be seeing this… And the furniture… The lavish decorations and gilded golden accents…

Ward 1. He must be in Ward 1.

Suddenly, a shadow blocks his vision. He sighs, squints, and is trying to refocus his field of vision when he feels something cold—a needle—slipping beneath his skin. His vision blurs even more and, after a few minutes, he’s out again.

 

* * *

 

"It is with great pleasure that I announce the capture of the treasonous Dave Strider. His execution date is set for the next open slot, which will be in exactly two months." A low, sadistic chuckle... "Let it be known that Karkat Vantas has until then to try and ultimately fail to rescue his bastard of a boyfriend."

Rose and Kanaya frown. Their eyes meet. A pointed sense of unspoken concern hangs in the air around them.

“Well… This isn’t good…”

Rose nods solemnly. She grabs the bag she’d brought with her and begins to restock it with their scattered supplies. Bandages. Food. Some extra clothes. The essentials. And, when she’s done, she turns towards Kanaya with a smile that is an equal mixture of fear and intrigue. There’s an adventurous spark in her eye and an energy behind her words. “I guess we’ll just have to find Karkat quicker, then?”

“Indeed.” Kanaya, too, has a bold air about her. “Should we continue with our plan to beat him to Ward 1 or is that idea currently toast?”

“I’m thinking it’s better if we actively start looking for him.”

A hum of agreement from Kanaya. “Okay… Then… If we don’t find him, he’ll probably find us.”

“Why do you say that?”

Kanaya offers a sly grin. “I’ve known Karkat for a majority of his life. He’s a real fighter, but he’s not the greatest at handling when the plans fail to work out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is also short.....


	33. An Omen to Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/2wU48PNeDHg/)

~~~~He’d boarded the train without knowing where it was even supposed to go. All he knew was that he’d found the door open, hopped in, and watched as the opening slid closed and the cars began to rocket down the set pathway. The inside is just as luxurious as it had looked before. The seats are still soft and there’s something keeping the train car temperature at a comfortable sixty five degrees.

Still, it’s all irrelevant to Karkat.

He’s lost Dave and he’s cornered.

“What else is there to do?” he mutters as he stares at his own reflection upon the glass window. He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair, and buries his face in his hands. “I’ve fucked up again…”

With a long, dejected sigh, he locks the wheels of his chair and pushes himself upwards a few inches. He edges over, until he’s balanced between the plush cushioned seat and his chair. A quiet huff escapes him as, in one swift, smooth motion, he swings himself onto the train bench. He feels something rolling down his cheeks—something wet and somewhat warm—and, after a few minutes, he turns his head to stare at his reflection once more.

A bitter smile works its way onto his features. He rests his forehead against the window. “I was starting to think I couldn’t cry anymore,” he mutters. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Where am I, anyhow? In some fucking stupid tunnel by myself. Wonderful. A luxury tunnel. Big fucking upgrade from the fucking shit shack I was living in before.”

“How fast is this train going?”

“Where the fuck is it going?”

For a good while, Karkat continues to mutter to himself. He alternates between staring blankly at his hands and gazing at the rapidly passing lights through the window.

 

* * *

 

The next time Dave wakes, he finds himself free of the handcuffs. Now, though, he stands in a room with peeling green wallpaper on three sides and a solid metal wall as the fourth. He frowns and stumbles to his feet.

_Where am I?_

He presses his good hand to the metal. It’s cold to the touch. In fact, now that he’s thinking about it, the room is pretty damned cold. Freezing, even. He shivers and glances down at the two-pronged pincer replacing his left hand. Each of the prongs is little more than a fairly thick piece of bent iron. The smooth, flat tips of each of the prongs are pressed firmly together. For a moment, he wonders if it’s supposed to be something symbolic—some shitty representation of a claw, perhaps, as a pun on the Cult of Cancer…

Not that it really matters.

_I’m stuck here either way._

There’s a locking mechanism on the arm. A sort of handle that, when he pulls it, pulls the two fingers apart. When he turns the handle, it locks in place. Out of boredom and curiosity, he does the reverse. Before he can push the handle back out, however, the spring snaps the prongs back together. He stumbles backwards with a yelp of shock and pain. His back hits the wall and he slides into a sitting position.

_What the fuck did they do?_

He rises slowly to his feet and approaches the solid wood door set within the metal wall. He bangs his good fist against the door and is greeted by the blade of a knife being shoved through the wood. By jumping back at the last moment, he escapes injury.

The people holding him here—whoever the hell they are—have to be powerful to shove a blade through a solid wood door. And they obviously don’t care that much about his bodily safety. Why, then, didn't they just let him bleed out in the underground?

Dave’s mind runs through the possibilities for a few minutes before stopping on one in particular. A feeling of dread spreads through him.

_Karkat. They’re using me to get to Karkat._

He kneels down on the ground and peeks through the gap beneath the door and the floor. Outside, he can make out the feet of at least two different guards.

Once again, he bangs on the door. This time, there’s a verbal response.

“Shut the fuck up in there.” Something slams against the door.

Again, Dave jumps back. This time, he loses his footing. He falls the ground and involuntarily puts his hands out to catch himself. The metallic hook hits first, creating an insignificant hole in the floor and sending a sharp pain shooting up Dave’s spine.

He readjusts himself and cradles his aching arm—or, at least, what’s left of it—as he eyes the freshly created gap in the wooden floorboards.

As far as he can tell, he’s in a pretty standard Ward 1 house. The room he can see below is wallpapered and a multitude of garish, expensive trinkets are displayed throughout the space. Biting on his lip to force himself to stay silent, he tugs at the handle on his left arm. He positions the prongs and clamps down on some more wood and pulls. It comes away with surprising ease.

Peering through the larger gap, he can see that the room is empty. No one seems to be guarding it and, if the dust covering everything is worth anything, it probably hasn’t seen any sort of use for a while.

_If I drop from here…_

Dave eyes the hole over once more before cautiously pulling away some more wood. Once the gap is large enough, he drops. He lands gracelessly and with a heavy thud. Though he freezes for a good fifteen minutes to listen for any sound, there aren’t any signs of life nearby. He lets his guard drop and examines the room around him.

It’s a bedroom. That much is obvious. The bed, though, is unmade. Presumably, it’s been like that for quite a while.

An array of crutches is stacked in the corner. The size ranges from something similar to the height of someone in their mid-teens to something just a hair shorter than the ones Karkat had been using when Dave had first met him.

_No. That can’t be possible._

A particular frame catches Dave’s eye. Unlike the rest, this one still has a faded photo inside. A boy—no older than twelve—stares bleakly at the camera. Propped up by a formidably amount of thick pillows, he sits in a high-backed armchair. A thick plaster cast encompasses his lower torso. His thick black hair sticks in every direction, much like…

Dave grabs the photo and tries to remove it from its place on the wall. The wire upon which it hung snaps. The glass shatters.

And, without really thinking about what he’s doing, Dave pockets the photo. He does his best to quickly fold it and curses under his breath when a one inch long rip appears on the page. This, however, he deems as a sign to grab it and run. He throws open the nearest window and looks down.

_Two story drop. Not that bad._

He grabs onto the ledge with his good hand and lowers himself. While his goal is to go as low as he possibly can before letting go, gravity has other plans. His grip fails within a half a minute and he falls. He lands between the wall of the home and a thick line of decorative bushes.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

When he moves, everything aches. Still, he figures it’s better to find some cover and wait than to lay out in the open. So, with what little energy he has left, he drags himself beneath the bushes and passes out.

 

* * *

 

By nightfall, Rose and Kanaya have come to the agreement that using an alternative pathway is faster. They, too, have taken to the sewers. Unlike the two men they’re chasing, however, they opted to incapacitate a handful of guards and enter through an actual entrance.

Still, their journey closely follows that of their friends. Not too long after entering the sewage system, they stumble across a door. A heavy iron portal with a sizable padlock sealing it shut.

Not that the padlock deters them. Rose picks it quickly and, soon enough, they, too, find themselves in the long-forgotten underground rail system. As they examine their surroundings, a train passes through; and, in its windows, they both swear they can see someone sitting inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the arm is kind of like [this](http://media.ottobock.com/prosthetics/arms/_general/images/below_elbow_body_powered_prothesis_graphic_16_9_teaser_onecolumn.jpg) but with thicker prongs and a shorter rod that the other hand pulls back and locks to open.


	34. Nahoko | I Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2kja9c) from the wind rises

“Obstruction detected. Maintenance crews are being summoned to clear the tracks. Thank you for your patience.” Karkat Vantas wakes to find the train has come to a halt. This, however, doesn’t really bother him. Rather, he yawns and tries to go back to sleep.

“Karkat! Hey! You okay in here?” Someone is shaking him by the shoulders. That voice… He opens his eyes to find himself staring at Kanaya and, unsure of exactly what is happening, he frowns.

“This is one fucking weird dream,” he mutters.

Kanaya sighs. “It’s not a dream. The tunnel is collapsed ahead. We’re going to have to find another way out of here.”

Another yawn. Karkat’s brow furrows into something akin to a look of absolute confusion. “Why not get captured by the bounty hunters? Dave’s probably already at my dad’s house.” He shrugs and lifts himself from the bench to his chair. “Where’s Rose?”

As if on cue, Rose steps onto the train. She drops her bag to the ground and pulls forth a formidable container of preserved fruits and vegetables. She tosses the container to Kanaya before straightening her hairband. “My apologies. I was trying to find something for you to eat. I assume you haven’t had anything for a while?”

Karkat nods. His mouth is already watering by the time Kanaya has caught the vessel. His eyes are wide. “Yeah. We didn’t have that much food.”

A small, concerned frown spreads across Rose’s face. “So… then… Dave is probably underfed, too?”

Another nod from Karkat. Having received the food, he now shovels handfuls into his mouth. “Yeah. Starving, probably.”

To this, Rose responds with a disappointed sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose as she continues, “Anything else to report on his condition?”

“Oh.” Karkat swallows a huge scoop of the assorted meal before replying. “He’s down one arm. Found his left hand nearby.”

“You seem rather casual about all of this,” points out Kanaya.

Rose, meanwhile, shakes her head. “I’m assuming he’s in shock. He’s stopped thinking about his feelings towards Dave and has temporarily classified him as a stranger to distance himself from the emotional distress.” As she speaks, Rose pulls forth a small notebook. Using a pen she pulls from her pocket, she begins jotting down notes. When she’s done, she flips the notebook shut and stows it away safely in the breast pocket of her jacket. “That’s a shame. He’s a leftie, you know.”

“Really?” A small hint of concern crosses Karkat’s features, but it’s gone by the time he shoves another handful of fruits and vegetables into his mouth.

“Just before we came into this underground transport system, they announced that he went missing.”

Karkat freezes. He swallows the last bits of his meal. “He… What?”

“He escaped,” Kanaya says simply. “His cell is empty and they haven’t seen any signs of him for the past two or three days.”

“Fuck.” One hand unlocks the chair’s brakes as the other begins wheeling forwards. When both hands are free, however, the movement stops. His fingers curl into fists and he presses the heels of his palms against his knees. “Nothing… They haven’t heard one fucking thing?”

“Nope.” Rose shakes her head. “I’m just as concerned as you are, Karkat…”

“I didn’t stop them…” Karkat’s voice cracks. He bows his head and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have let him come with me. But his fucking stupid smile…” With a dejected sigh, he shoves the now empty container off of his lap and onto the floor.

 

* * *

 

Dave Strider wakes to find himself still wedged beneath the thick, tangled branches of an ornamental bush. In fact, upon closer inspection, he finds tiny berries on the branches; though, the exact type of bush he’s trapped under isn’t very important.

He suppresses a yawn and rolls over. Though it’s nighttime, the scenery is somewhat illuminated by the dull streetlamps. Through the thick foliage, he spots what seems to be a clear pathway.

If it’s not clear… Well, then, he’ll just get thrown back into the cell. After all, it’s not like they can kill him. Yet. They need him as bait for Karkat.

He takes a few haphazard, clumsy swings at the branches with his prosthetic hand and manages to knock out enough to squeeze himself through. From there, he stumbles to his feet and sprints. He dodges from shadow to shadow before eventually stopping in an alleyway slightly over four blocks away.

He leans his back against one of the brick walls and tugs at the crude arm he’d been fitted with. The efforts are futile, though, as he quickly realizes that the base is somehow attached to him.

_Probably should have noticed that earlier since it doesn’t have any straps…_

With a long sigh, Dave Strider sinks to the ground. He draws his knees to his chest and leans his head back, against the wall.

All the while, the speakers scattered throughout Skaia remind him of his status.

“Dave Strider has escaped. Any information leading to his recapture will be rewarded with immediate reclassification as a Ward 1 citizen or a hefty sum of money. This offer will be voided if he is returned dead. Thank you for your cooperation.”

_What time is it?_

Looking at the position of the moon doesn’t really help Dave much. All he knows is that it’s dark.

_I’m so tired…_

He glances around and notices an open and seemingly disused dumpster. Without any hesitation, he clambers into it and, once inside, he finds himself atop a pile of rotten food and scrap metal.

It’s not the worst he’s ever had to sleep on; but, it goes without saying that it’s nowhere near the best. No, the best was that mattress at Karkat’s place.

_Karkat…_

His face fills the darkness as soon as Dave closes his eyes.

And, as he falls asleep, Dave finds himself thinking of nothing but Karkat. Where is he? Is he okay? Why didn’t the attackers take him, too?

The thoughts swim through his mind and remain even after he’s fallen asleep.


	35. The Secret Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUiy68iofAA)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting now because it short af

The next time Dave Strider wakes, he’s unsure of if he actually slept.

When he peers outside of the dumpster, he finds that it’s still dark out. Now, though, he can hear the sound of rain beating against the metal cover of his makeshift bed.

How long had he been asleep?

He pulls himself up and out of the trash. He hits the ground with only a mild bump and stumbles to his feet.

Karkat. Karkat’s probably looking for him. And, if Dave were a betting type—or, rather, since Dave _is_ the betting type, he has a feeling that the best course of action is to return to the sewers.

 

* * *

 

“You’re bleeding.”

Karkat frowns. He glances up, towards Rose, before looking down. A small puddle of bright red is forming on his right footrest. Without really thinking about it, he pulls up his pants leg to investigate. Not that it really takes a detective to find the source of the blood. It is, after all, a fairly sizable gash which runs the length of his shin. His frown deepens. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Who knows?” Kanaya shrugs. “The sewer fish have some nasty teeth. In fact, my cousin…”

“If this is about the jackass who stuck his foot in a sewer drainage ditch and got it bitten off, I’ve already heard it,” grumbles Karkat.

And, to this, Kanaya responds with an innocent smile. “Actually, I have another relative who lost her finger to one of the slimy devils. They’re pretty vicious.”

“I haven’t noticed.” Rolling his eyes, Karkat pulls his leg up and sets it so that it’s crossed atop the other. He reaches into his pocket and uses the last bit of gauze that he had to wrap the wound before readjusting himself. He pulls his pants leg down when he’s finished and tosses aside the cardboard roll the gauze had been wrapped around.

“That’s littering, Karkat,” points out Rose.

“Great. The fish can fucking choke on it.”

“Well aren’t we just a bundle of joy today?”

Again, Karkat rolls his eyes. He puts more force behind each push of the wheels of his chair to speed up until he’s a good yard ahead of the two women. “Well, hey, I’m pretty sure you’d be in a fucking shitty mood in my place right now, too. I’ve lost Dave twice. The bastard wouldn’t even stay in place long enough for me to get him out of wherever the hell my father was keeping him.”

“That’s Dave for you,” snickers Rose.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Rose and Kanaya exchange mildly annoyed glances before coming to the mutual decision that it’s not worth their time to try and strike up any conversation with Karkat. His mood isn’t changing any time soon.

So, instead, the two women begin quietly conversing between themselves.

“Think we’ll have to kill anyone to finish this?” Kanaya is the first to comment. Despite the subject matter, she’s as calm and collected as she usually is.

And Rose, too, is similarly stoic. She offers a small shrug. “Probably. Why? Are you opposed?”

“If it’s necessary, I’m fine with it.”

“Same.” A brief pause. The sound of water droplets splashing against the ground and into the main sewage line seem to echo forever. When one drop’s sound stops, another hits. “When we’re done with all of this shit, though, you want to maybe… Go to dinner with me somewhere…?”

“Of course. That sounds like it would be quite fun.”

“Cool.” Rose blushes. In the back of her mind, she wonders if Kanaya can even see the display in the darkness of the sewers. Not that it really matters…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a short one again


	36. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FifTOC3NLUs)

Today has not gone well for Dave Strider.

His rope snapped when he was lowering himself into the sewers, thus leaving him and everything he owns drenched in putrid liquid shit. The tunnel he’d planned on using had collapsed, leaving him only seconds to escape injury. And, now, he’s being driven up the wall by the most persistent pain he’s ever felt—a violent burning sensation—that seems to emanate from a hand that isn’t even there.

He stumbles, trips, and catches himself against the concrete wall. He tugs at the unwanted prosthetic, only to stop when what remains of his arm begins to ache. And it is around this point that he picks up on the sound of not-too-distant movement. Splashing consistent with someone wading through feculent waste water. His body tenses. He freezes instinctually.

The sounds grow closer…

…closer…

…until…

…they’re…

A cold blade presses against Dave’s throat and, when he looks down, he recognizes it immediately. (He always has had a strange knack for seeing in the dark.) And, when the person wielding the weapon speaks…

“You want me to kill you? I will fucking kill you. I will slit your fucking throat and…”  A long pause. A choked sob of relief. “Dave?”

“‘Sup?” A cocky grin and a raised brow. Two things which have never once failed a Strider. “Nice to see you, too, jackass.”

The blade is withdrawn. Until now, the assailant’s face had been hidden in the shadows of a thick cloth hood. Now, though, as the veil is removed, is identity is undeniable. Karkat Vantas. “How’d you know where to find us?”

Dave shrugs. He folds his arms across his chest and eyes Karkat. “I didn’t. I just figured you wouldn’t make it all the way to Ward 1 in the time it took me to drop my ass back into these toilet tunnels and wade through enough literal shit to find you.” His gaze drifts upwards and towards the two people visible over Karkat’s shoulder. “Oh. You found Rose and…”

“Kanaya.”

“Yeah. Kanaya.” By now, Dave has noticed the look of concern working its way onto Rose’s face. He tuts loudly. “I can handle myself, Lalonde.”

“Yes. And we have wonderful evidence of that in the form of a disembodied arm, dumbass,” Rose replies flatly. She bounds forward, through the knee-deep sewage, until she’s next to Dave. Though she tries to be discrete, it’s still fairly obvious that she’s begun to study the prosthetic arm.

Dave, however, dismisses this. In fact, he completely ignores the commentary. “How long’s it been?”

“About a week,” answers Kanaya. She shrugs, reaches into her pocket, and pulls forth a sealed bag of beef jerky. “I assume you’re hungry?”

No answer. Instead, Dave snatches the bag and rips it open. By the time Kanaya realizes what’s happened, Dave is busy stuffing food into his mouth. Still, between handfuls of meat, he manages to maintain some semblance of courtesy. “Thanks. Tastes great. Hungry as fuck.”

Karkat, in return, rolls his eyes. He backs up a few inches. “You’re disgusting, Strider.”

“Actually, I recall that you had a similar reaction to seeing food, Karkat,” hums a smug-looking Kanaya.

“Hey. Did I fucking ask you?” Karkat grumbles as he feels the heat which rises to his cheeks. Not that Dave can see it; his complexion is perfect for hiding embarrassment. “So, did you see my dad?”

Dave shakes his head. Somehow, he’s made it through the whole bag. “Nah. Didn’t see that bastard. Nice house, though… If it is yours… Or… was? I don’t know. Your family drama is confusing as hell.”

“I never would have guess,” is the beginning of what might just be the most sincerely insincere sarcastic remark in history, “It’s not like I’m in the _fucking middle of it_.”

And, to this, Dave responds with his usual apathetic shrug. “Whatever, dude.”

Karkat returns with a sound that’s halfway between a stifled laugh and a growl of frustration.

Rose and Kanaya, meanwhile, take this as their cue to finally have some free time. After all, Dave and Karkat are seeing one another for the first time in a week. They’ll be busy for quite a while…

 

* * *

 

Holding her breath, Rose Lalonde drops one final stone atop a seemingly impossible tower. Only when the tower stops swaying and remains standing does she allow herself to breathe again. “Perfect!” she exclaims.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Kanaya asks. Despite her best efforts to hide her feelings, her bemused grin all too obvious. “You told me to come with you to… What? ‘Speak about private issues.’ And you make me a rock tower?”

“Tsk.” Rose shakes her head slowly. “It’s a _cairn_. A rock stack. They’re commonly used as graves or landmarks.” With her hands folded across her chest, she offers a proud grin.

“It’s a rock pile.”

“Rock stack. _Cairn_.”

“Where did you even learn about this?” Kanaya sighs.

“Rocks are pretty common toys in Ward 1. And I always had a thing for digging books out of the garbage.” Here, Rose pauses. She turns to check on her creation before continuing, “I used to read a lot about magic and wizards and so on. Usually, the books were part of stacks left outside of old bookstores.”

“And…” Kanaya’s grin widens. She quirks her brow in a show of thoroughly entertained confusion. “…wizards make rock piles?”

“ _Cairns_ ,” repeats Rose. “No. It just happened that I once found this really old book. Like… Old as balls. Said they were made all across something called Europe.”

“Isn’t that something that kept popping up on the signs in the sealed over underground?”

“Yeah.” Rose chews on her lip for a moment. “It’s something worth looking into. Apparently, the world used to have these huge landmasses called ‘continents.’”

“There’s an old bedtime story—or, I guess, it could be a legend—that’s something like that.” A sigh of thought escapes Kanaya. She pulls a small notebook and a pencil from her pocket and begins writing on the first available page she finds. “My mother used to tell it to me. So… You’re saying that it might be more than a legend?”

“I guess so.”

Once again, the spark of intrigue which appears in Rose’s eyes draws Kanaya in. It’s both the most amazing and the most attractive thing she’s ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "whatever i majored in art history"  
> —me @ everything


	37. Cliffside Waltz I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/scene-at-sea-original-soundtrack/id322840090) i can't find it on youtube but here's the itunes album

At some point, Dave wakes to the sound of Karkat’s voice and the warmth of his touch against his shoulder. “Hm?”

“I… um… I guess we’ll have to kill my dad to finish this, right?”

Even in the darkness, Dave can see the uncertainty on Karkat’s face. Hell, he can practically feel it as it radiates forth from him like heat from a fire. “Yeah. Unless you think a tea party is going to fix everything.”

“I don’t know… I…” A long, confused sigh. “He’s a jackass, yeah. And I fucking hate him, but… I’m not sure I could actually kill him. I mean… Kankri…”

“Then I’ll kill the fuckin’ bastard. Get some sleep.” Dave gathers the blanket from Rose’s bag in his arms to make a pillow and, within seconds, falls asleep once more.

 

* * *

 

“What the actual fuck is that… strange… glowing orb?” As he says this, Dave emerges dramatically from the sewers. He flops onto his back in the middle of the empty field they’be wandered into and takes a deep breath. “Wow! It doesn’t smell like literal fuckin’ shit. Amazing! Am I dead? Are we dead, Rose? Am I in heaven?”

To this, Rose responds with a disgruntled groan. She gently kicks Dave in the side as she passes him. “You know where we are, Dave. Get up.”

Dave frowns. He sits up and dusts himself off. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m loads of fun. Just not when it comes to you,” Rose shrugs. She slings her bag over her shoulders and waltzes forward.

Meanwhile, having been lifted from the sewage with a makeshift rope made from old wire, Karkat appears next to Dave. “The orb’s the sun, you vapid little shit.”

 

* * *

 

Dave Strider sits in the shade of a taller, moss-covered tree.

Right now, the group is only an hour’s walk from the central city of Ward 1. An hour from finally finishing this clusterfuck once and for all…

“So…” Without any cigarettes to light, Dave opts to simply toy with his lighter. He watches absentmindedly as the tiny flame bursts forth from the opening at the top. He hums thoughtfully. “You think you’re ready?”

“No.”

It’s an honest answer. At the very least, it’s unabashedly honest.

“I already told you.” Dave closes his eyes and revels in the warmth of the sun. “I’ll kill him if you need me to. And I’ll do the jail time.”

“You’re not a part of the fucking problem, though,” Karkat muses. “You’re… You’d be paying for shit I’ve done.”

“I’m okay with that.” A small shrug. “Look, you get… What? You’re fed and guaranteed housing in Ward 1 prison. And, seeing as this’ll all go down in Ward 1…”

Karkat shakes his head. “No. No. You thickheaded skullfucker. I’m saying that I… I don’t know. Maybe it’s best if I just turn myself in? You and Rose and Kanaya will all be free to live your fucking happy lives and. I don’t know. I guess I’ll get what I deserved for being a drunk, arrogant ass.”

“No.” Dave’s response is quick and forceful. It’s powerful enough to make Karkat’s heart skip a beat. “We’ve gotten this far, dude. What’s the point in quitting now? Besides, you’ve literally got time on your side.”

“Yeah…”

The word isn’t very convincing. Still, Dave takes it as a positive sign. “You and me, right? We’ll take down this shit together. That’s a fuckin’ deal.”

Here, Karkat’s mood lifts. A small, nervous smile plays at the edges of his lips. “Yeah.” This time, the word is more sincere. “You’ve got a point. Strider and Vantas, right?”

“Right. Now, go the fuck to sleep.” With this said, Dave settles into his sleeping bag. He yawns and closes his eyes.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, all of this bullshit will get sorted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so shoutout to [AngelaLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelaLives/pseuds/AngelaLives) for the ending idea and buckle up because this ending is probs going to crash-land really soon. and by crash land i mean catastrophically. i have no idea what i'm doing. houston, who certified this homestuck trash to pilot a rocket?


	38. Beyond the Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0mx8ayCG1E) it's actually from fmab but w/e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i'm making this tiny thing its own chapter because it doesn't fit in anywhere else so wow have this little turd of plot it's a ploturd

Step back and see things through the eyes of a long-forgotten deity.

See the world and all of its possibilities as no other has seen them before. A faceless, omnipotent, indifferent deity whose only interest is in the ways in which humans seem to interact. How they love. How they fight. How they form bonds.

The world is in the palm of your hands.

Every outcome of every situation has a different result, and you can see them all.

Every last one of them.

You’ve watched as the world before Skaia—a world of countless nations scattered across an unforgiving planet—withered and died. You’ve see civilizations crumble. You know that, outside of Skaia, is a world of towering, decaying wreckage. Skyscrapers with no windows, their bare, skeletal remains blackened by ash and time. The world and civilization itself has collapsed. And you’ve watched.

Yet, somehow, you find yourself enthralled with the insignificant and inconsequential actions of a small few. An asinine, cliché, and wholly forgettable tale of love between two peoples who lives are but sparks which fly from a massive fire.

And, then, there’s the other two. The girls whose investigations are getting far too close to you than you wish for them to. Two love-struck young women with eyes only for each other and the secret behind Skaia.

Of course, no one will believe them. No one will want to believe them.

That the world has crumbled to little more than Skaia and two smaller but equally oppressive kingdoms? That the world was once filled with humans and long-lost knowledge?

No, that knowledge is yours. And yours alone.

You’ve kept it to yourself for this long, and you intend to keep it that way…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah second person i feel like i'm in high school again no college loans i am free!!!! oh fuck no wait shit they're still there


	39. The Furies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [uwu](https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/princess-mononoke-original/id883500999) i can't find it online, so here's the itunes store

When they arrived, the mansion was very much in use. Smoke billowed from the chimney. Lights illuminated the wide windows. And, yet, there were no guards. No patrols. No security of any type. Not even the usual staff was at work. No gardeners roamed the vast estate’s lawn. No groundskeepers trotted along their usual stone path, carefully inspecting and cleaning everything they could.

Still, they stuck to the plan.

Rose and Kanaya scouted out the area and, within only an hour, the front door was opened.

As agreed, Dave and Karkat entered the building.

And, yet, the inside was just as empty as the outside. Absolute silence. It wasn’t something Karkat had ever remembered hearing in his childhood home and, the more he thought about it, the more he began to suspect that something was wrong.

Not that he’d make it, anyhow. His father would certainly kill him on sight. But, he could save Dave. If he could keep the hardheaded blond from charging into his father’s office like a crazed, raging pile of bullshit…

“Should we turn back?” Karkat muttered at some point.

Dave frowned. He shook his head. “No. Why would we?”

“Because this screams ‘trap.’ Like. Every breath of air in this fucking awful place is just a fucking trap.”

“We won’t know unless we find out.”

“And by the time we find out, we’ll be…” Karkat stopped here. He froze, his hands hovering above the wheels of his chair as he noticed a trail of blood which ran the length of the hallway. It formed a perfect path—a straight line—to his father’s office. And, as much as it worried him, he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t actually human. It couldn’t have been. And a body couldn’t have made such relatively regular lines. “This is definitely a…”

Before he could finish speaking, Karkat’s eyes fell upon the last sight he’d ever wanted to behold.

The door to his father’s office is open. And, not surprisingly, his father isn’t there.

Instead, he and Dave are greeted by thirty-some Skaian guards. Thirty-some odd guns pointed at Dave Strider’s chest.

“Dave. You goddamned fuck-for-brains! What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” The words spilled straight from Karkat’s mind and to his mouth.

And Dave, in return, offered an apologetic smile. “Well, you were right.”

“Don’t move.” The order came from one of the guards. To tell its exact source, however, was all but impossible. And, by Karkat’s estimates, it would have been a waste of time, anyhow.

Because, by now, he could sense it. He could see the tension in Dave’s muscles. “What!? What do you fucking think you’re doing?”

“Buying you time. Get out of here, dammit!”

Karkat frowned. He lowered his hands and grabbed onto the wheels of his chair. Yet, as soon as he could feel the familiar metal beneath his fingers, he froze. “They don’t want you, you goddamned fuckwit. They want me.”

As the sentence ended, a gunshot rang out.

Time froze.

Dave stepped from where he’d been surrounded and looked around.

It wasn’t all that hard to find. A hunk of metal floating in midair. Its pointed cap aimed directly at Karkat…

“Sorry, dude. Guess I should’ve listened to you.” He shrugged, shoved his hands into his pockets, and nonchalantly stepped in front of the projectile. After taking one final look at Karkat, he turned his back. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Time resumed.

And, as Dave’s words echoed in Karkat’s mind, the bullet moved forwards…

 

* * *

 

Darkness.

It surrounds. It consumes. It exists.

And, yet, it shouldn’t.

Nothing should.

He’s dead.

He’s supposed to be dead.

And, yet…

“I… What the fuck is this? Is this some sort of holding cell for people on the way to hell?” Dave mutters. “Look, I died. Fair and square. I died. Can I just get on the elevator and zip my way off to eternal damnation?”

Silence.

Dave sighs. “I’m talking to the fuckin’ void. I am literally talking to the goddamned void…”

As if on cue, the darkness is broken by a familiar eye. A massive, burning, white light that consumes the darkness and turns the world into a wall of pure white. But, it’s only momentary. The light fades quickly; the eye, however, remains. It looms before Dave, dwarfing him with its sheer size. And, from this eye, there comes a familiar voice.

“Dave Strider…”

“You again?” Dave frowns. He folds his arms across his chest and rolls his eyes. “Look, pal, thanks for the time magic and all that. But I’m kind of hyped for my supposed eternal damnation and I heard from someone that Satan’s handing out cookies to newbies. So, move your fuckin’ ass.”

There’s a brief silence. Then, the answer, “You’re quite the rude one, aren’t you? No matter. I’m here to reclaim my mark.”

“And you had to interrupt my lovely trip down the death slide to do it?”

“Not usually.” The eye in the sky blinks. “You, however, have been quite entertaining. You’ve held my interest and entertained me. So, in return, I will entertain you. I offer you this deal: I will rewind time. There are no further outcomes available from this interaction that benefit you. Only death awaits you, the man you love, Rose, and Kanaya.”

“Wow. Whoever or whatever the fuck you are, you’d be a whole fuckin’ lot of fun at parties.”

“I’ll ignore that comment.”

“Fine.” Another reluctant sigh escapes Dave. He looks at the eye and, for a moment, he thinks about its size. For something to possess such a large eye… It would have to be huge. Massive. Beyond anything he could ever conceive… “What’s the deal?”

“I’ll change the past. Rose will take the job as Karkat’s bodyguard in your place.”

“And what the fuck does that do?”

“It leads to the most positive outcome I can find. Karkat is never exiled. He lives well beyond the early death of his father and disbands the Cult of Cancer. Rose still meets Kanaya…”

“Yeah. Great. Can we cut to the downside?”

“You, as you are now, will no longer exist. Your memories will be erased and you will be sent back to a world where the chances of you ever meeting Karkat will be… slim. Meager, at best.”

Dave freezes.

He closes his eyes.

“So… I won’t remember Karkat? At all?”

“No.”

“But… Everything will turn out okay? You can guarantee me that?”

“I don’t guarantee anything beyond the fact that Karkat will not be exiled.”

Now is his chance.

He can take everything and fix it. He can give Karkat and Rose a life beyond the one he’s just seen—a world where…

“Karkat’s dad. What happens to him?”

“In all scenarios in which Karkat is not exiled, his father is killed by a hired hitman. He will never take power.”

Dave bites his lip. He thinks of everything that’s happened.

Rose. If Kanaya isn’t Rose’s perfect match, then Dave would eat his own shit. Those two are perfect together. They’re happy together.

And Karkat…

Well, at the very least, he won’t be stuck in the shitty dead-end trap that Dave had led him into only moments ago.

As for himself… Well… He won’t remember any of this. He won’t know any of this happened. He’ll never know that Karkat ever existed.

“If I agree… Will I ever meet him?”

“It’s highly unlikely. Only a small handful of outcomes result in you meeting again. And you won’t meet until much later.”

Dave nods. He takes a deep breath in.

Karkat…

He pictures the familiar face in his mind. He focuses on it and, after a few minutes of silence, he responds. “I accept.”

“I shall provide what you demand.”

The eye in the sky disappears.

Dave doesn’t notice. His eyes remain closed. He focuses on the image he’s conjured in his mind. The memory of Karkat smiling—images of his face. The world melts around him. He feels himself being torn apart. Everything that’s happened to him in the past few months begins to fade. Memories are torn from his mind. They seem to float away like shreds of paper, drifting aimlessly until they’ve turned to nothing.

Still, he clings to the last remnant of those memories. He clings to the image in his mind.

And, yet, it still begins to fade.

One by one, the memories disappear.

The first few to vanish are ones he doesn’t mind. Memories of the most recent events—of the disaster he feels responsible for—he parts with happily.

As time passes, though, he grows less willing. He fights the invisible hands which dig into his brain and pull from it the very things he’s trying desperately to retain.

Karkat…

The more he thought of the name…

…the less familiar it seemed…

…until...

 

* * *

 

Dave Strider wakes to find that he’d fallen asleep on the sofa again.

He frowns.

Something feels… odd…

There’s something wrong…

No.

Dave shakes his head.

Paranoid, pointless thoughts.

They’ll go away if he leaves them alone long enough.

“Hey, Dave, I’m leaving.”

Leaving? Leaving for…

No.

No. Now he remembers.

That job. The Vantas family has been asking for applicants to pick a bodyguard for the youngest of the family.

What was his name again...?

For some reason, it seems as if Dave should know this. It’s on the tip of his tongue…

“The trolley is coming in five minutes, Dave.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Dave scrambles from where he’s spread out on the sofa. He rushes down the stairs and, upon emerging into the living room, finds himself faced with Rose.

Her room is empty.

He’d know. He helped her empty it. He’d helped her pack. Hell, he’d even hid a few encouraging notes in her bags. He’s not heartless. She’s his half-sister. Sure, they fight and bicker; but, when it comes down to it…

“When will I see you again?”

Rose frowns. “I’m not sure. It’s… I think the job is indefinite. As long as I’m physically capable of fulfilling my duties, I see no reason why they’d fire me.”

Dave nods. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Rose. He holds on for a few seconds before letting go and stepping back. “You’ll write?”

“All the time.” Rose nods and offers a reassuring smile.

“Tell me all about it. Ward 1 has to be more interesting than this dump.”

“It probably is.”

“Yeah.”

The clock begins to chime.

Rose opens the door and, as he hears the sound, Dave turns his back. He takes a deep breath in and fights against the rising lump in his throat.

“I’ll send pictures. Take care of yourself. I’ve got John keeping an eye on you.”

Dave doesn’t respond.

Instead, he waits until the door clicks closed. Then, in the silence of the empty house, he returns to the sofa. He buries his face in his hands and does something he’s never done before.

He cries.

Dave Strider, the younger brother of the impenetrable Bro Strider, cries.

And, oddly enough, it feels… nice.

It feels natural.

Maybe Bro was wrong.

Maybe Dave’s only weakness was believing the bastard for all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this has dragged on for forever and i am going to end this in one big update dump merry christmas


	40. Epilogue | Brotherhood — Concerto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [rips off my own clothes] I'M FINISHED THIS IS ACTUALLY AKIRA SENJU AND IT'S FROM THE FMAB SOUNDTRACK BUT I'M FINISHED [uwu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Br2RQ9KF-VI)

At just over sixty-three years old, Dave Strider has everything he could have possibly hoped for.

He lives in the outskirts of Ward 2 and receives near-daily letters from his half-sister, Rose, about her job as the bodyguard for some irritable jackass by the name of Karkat Vantas. Ever since she left, though, he’s taken full ownership of the family repair business. He’s built it to the point that it’s managed to become the pride of the area.

There’s Rose, too… Rose is the happiest she’s ever been. She’s married. Her research into the origins of legends about an unknown, buried world has been published and praised by countless reputable scholarly journals.

And, somehow, it steels seems… empty.

He’s always wanted to find _someone_. To have a romantic relationship like his half-sister has with Kanaya, the Vantas family tailor. He’s had a few short-lived dates and, to be honest, he’s long since given up on this goal. And he's fine with that. Still, it’s been kind of shitty not seeing his sister for the past three decades.

That’s about to change, though.

Although it’s not exactly for the reasons Dave would agree to.

Not that he can change the situation.

Compared to Rose, he’s had twenty extra years of Ward 12 bullshit circulating through his body. Two decades of thick, sooty air and factory fumes. Aside from that, he’s filled himself with untold toxins with his smoking habit. As he succinctly puts it when asked, his lungs have been shot to hell. To be fair, though, the past few decades have churned out some amazing stuff. If he’d come down with this twenty years ago, he’d be dead. So, that’s a positive, right?

“Amazing. Nearly half a century later, you still look like as insufferable as you used to.”

Dave smirks. As he looks at his half-sister, he can’t help but compare their aging. Whereas he’s fully grey, Rose has retained a good amount of the same golden blonde. She’s clearly in better physical form.

Still, the response Dave gives isn’t all that dissimilar from something he would’ve said when he was younger. He offers a cocky grin. His voice has gotten much quieter—more akin to a hoarse whisper—but, that’s not about to stop him. “Says the one who dumped me in Ward 12.”

Rose shrugs. She hops out of the car and walks around to the back door. “Hope you don’t mind. We’re just getting back from a business deal nearby. Karkat’s in the back.” As she says this, she opens the car. She steps aside to let Dave in.

Dave, however, has focused his attention on the man in the seat furthest from the door.

Somehow, he seems familiar. The grey hair, spotted with hints of black… The thick, furrowed brows whose color stands perfectly against medium brown skin. The look of perpetual annoyance. It’s all so oddly familiar. Comforting, almost.

He slides into the seat and offers the man a wide grin.

And the man, in return frowns. He eyes Dave over and taps his fingers against faded mechanisms secured to his legs. “Who… Who the fuck is this?”

“My half-brother, Dave,” Rose replies brightly. She sits down and closes the door.

As the car starts, the seats rumble.

Dave, meanwhile, extends his hand to the strangely familiar man. “Name’s Dave Strider.”

For a few minutes, the man stares at the gesture without moving. After some thought, however, he shakes Dave’s hand. “Karkat Vantas.”

“Nice name,” says Dave, “Really cool. Like it. Ten out of ten.”

“Have we… met… before?” Karkat frowns. The inner edges of his brows press together.

“I was going to ask the same question.” Now, Dave, too, frowns. He withdraws his hand and folds his hands behind his head. “Don’t think so. Would’ve remembered someone as cute as you.” A sly smile and a small shrug punctuate the statement.

Karkat responds with an embarrassed sigh. He lowers his gaze. “I… Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, are you the guy Rose’s been guarding this entire time?”

“Yeah.” Karkat directs his gaze out the window. He watches as the car picks up speed. “I… Rose’s told me about you. And I guess you seem pretty cool…”

“Yeah. And you seem pretty decent, too.”

“Well, then, maybe you’d like to… I don’t know… Go somewhere? Together?”

Another pause. Karkat folds his arms across his chest and, after a long, thoughtful sigh, he responds. “There’s a seafood place near the house. I um… Yeah. I guess we could… go… there?”

A confident, satisfied grin spreads across Dave’s face. Whereas he usually wouldn’t agree to such an offer, there’s something inside of him that’s telling him it’ll be fine. It’s odd; but, he just feels like this guy is the one. Whoever the hell this Karkat Vantas is, he’s going to work. “Cool. Yeah. You’ve got a deal.”

With this resolved, a peaceful silence descends upon the car.

The rumbling seats and sporadic yet predictable bumps in the road lull Dave into a state of mindlessness.

At some point, Karkat falls asleep. He ends up resting his head against Dave’s shoulder.

It’s something that Dave finds inexplicably familiar. It’s like he’s done this before, yet… He hasn’t, has he?

He shrugs. He yawns and lets the ride lull him, too, into a peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to thank the academy, my family and friends, my parents, and myself for...  
> oh who the fuck am i kidding  
> what the actual fuck was that, tennantstype40? yo, me? you fuckin listening?  
> what the **actual fuck** was that!? that! was! bullshit!  
>  that's it, tennantstype40  
> you're fired  
> yeah i'm firing myself goodbye  
> [punts myself into space]


End file.
